On What Grounds
by Solaryllis
Summary: He never could have guessed the price for winning would be so high. Gale tries to move on after the war. Features rebuilding and forgiveness, spying, and an annoying dog. Post-MJ AU, GalexMadge. *NOW COMPLETE*
1. Snared

**Title:** On What Grounds

**Rating:** T. Mild swearing.

**Summary:** Sequel to my story, "Rebel Like You," which explored the possibility of a Gale/Madge relationship developing in the background of _Catching Fire_, and ended with the firebombing of District 12. Post-_Mockingjay_ AU where Madge is alive.

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, I'm just borrowing them.

**A/N:** _Mockingjay_ left me sad for countless reasons, one of which was that Gale got such an unsatisfying ending. Madge volunteered to give them both happier resolutions because she's helpful like that.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Snared<strong>

The map is wrong. That's the only explanation. Gale squints at the flimsy, rumpled paper and knows for certain that the map has betrayed them. It brought them to this cliff side that is decidedly lacking 1) the valley, 2) the equipment, and 3) the rest of the squad.

"Figure it out yet?" Milo asks, leaning lazily against the jeep's hood and looking through binoculars at a rocky outcropping on the next mountain.

Gale plucks the binoculars out of Milo's useless hands and tosses them back inside the jeep. "We're not sightseeing."

"I'm doing reconnaissance." Milo grins cheekily, and not for the first time Gale wishes he outranked the guy and could order him to shape up. Unfortunately, they're essentially equals and have been partnered together for the duration of this assignment.

"Scoping out climbing routes is not recon," Gale says and pulls out the junk map again for one last look. "Try using that _local knowledge_ for something useful." He can't keep the sarcasm out of his tone; part of Milo's role as a District 2 native is to help navigate the numerous unmarked roads and unnamed little villages that all look the same to Gale as an outsider. But Milo's from a different sector of the district and has been wholly unhelpful in navigating this morning.

"Relax, we're still early." As if to make his point, Milo reaches his arms behind his head in a stretch and turns his face into the sun, reminding Gale of one of those unfamiliar lizards he keeps seeing at the lower elevations. "We can just double-back."

Crumpling the useless map into a ball, Gale gestures for Milo to get back in the jeep. He backs up in a Y-turn a little more aggressively than the situation calls for, trying to tune out Milo's chatter about a new type of climbing harness, and drives back along the dirt road to the last turn. Knowing that they're not late yet doesn't alleviate his uneasiness at not knowing where they are. It's a general feeling he still hasn't gotten used to: not being sure where he fits into the world anymore.

Milo props his feet up on the passenger side dash, still going on about the harness. Nothing phases the guy, which is a benefit for their particular project, but his civilian casualness when they aren't actually working can be annoying. Command has recently taken to pairing military units—like Gale's squad—with local civilian units who helped the rebels during the war but never went through formal military training (which is most of the rebels, actually). The idea is that the two groups will more effectively rebuild damaged infrastructure and ensure no bombs or other traps are remaining now that the last Peacekeeper holdouts have been neutralized.

Gale volunteered for the assignment the second he heard there was a way he could keep civilians safe from the Capitol's unexploded ordnance and other lingering trickery. Added bonus that it's dangerous work. His family and Katniss are safely tucked away in 13 and 12, and are better off without him; if he dies in the line of duty at least it will have been for a good reason. He's also grateful to have useful tasks each day to keep his mind off… everything.

"Here," Milo yells, pulling his feet off the dash suddenly. Gale spots the turn-off and swivels the steering wheel in time to make the turn. A cloud of the infernal ever-present District 2 dust swirls up behind the jeep, obscuring the view behind them. No matter; Gale tries to not spend a lot of time looking backward these days anyway.

They reach the mouth of the valley about ten minutes later, and Gale's relieved to see that the others are only just arriving as well. He parks next to one of the transport trucks, still offloading the squad, and surveys the surroundings. A road leading to one of the abandoned quarries passes through this sparsely settled valley, and residents reported seeing Peacekeepers burying landmines before they'd been evacuated to the fortified nearby towns. A few homes are scattered along the slopes of the valley, but according to the pre-briefing materials none of the residents have been allowed to return yet. Not until this sweep has been completed.

Milo's rummaging around on the floor of the jeep, mumbling about not being able to find his badge because Gale's such a wild driver. Gale leaves him to it. They're returning from a multi-day training session in one of the other villages so they could learn new defusing techniques and Milo had treated the assignment like a vacation, spending every non-working second either at the bar or the rec hall or sleeping off hangovers. As usual, Gale had shunned every invitation and retreated to his quarters. Among other reasons, he'd seen too many reporters prowling around. With a quick scan of the vehicles parked nearby in this valley, he suspects there are a few too many reporters here as well.

Finally Milo locates his badge and reattaches it to his uniform. Crooked, of course. They walk over to the tent where Commander Riggs is preparing to brief everyone on the mission.

"Hawthorne and Ventus. Nice of you to join us."

They salute, and Gale hides his annoyance. On time is late in Commander Riggs' world, and excuses don't fly. Gale subscribes to the same philosophy so he silently takes his place in the tent and waits for the briefing to start. Even if he doesn't stick with the military, he doesn't want to disappoint Riggs and for now this is a place to be. A place that's not 12.

Fully briefed on the plan for the day, Gale takes his group out for the initial sweep for explosives. When he first returned to District 2 after the war officially ended, his commanding officers had quickly noticed his knack for predicting the most likely locations for 'souvenirs' the retreating Peacekeepers had left for the rebel forces and civilian inhabitants. The remaining landmines are just variations on traps, and Gale doesn't like to dwell on wondering if the others realize that he's a little _too_ good at thinking like the enemy.

After the main road and shoulder areas are clear, he joins Milo near the far end of the valley, where a tesserae storage silo has been built into the rock wall. So many of the crucial features in this district are part of the rocks—it's why someone who knows so much about the local geology like Milo is necessary for this type of operation. And he is actually useful—when it matters, he becomes serious and focused and Gale trusts him. They exchange a look, both aware that this silo is a natural target. Gale gets that suspicious feeling in his gut that it's been rigged. It's what he would do—lay a trap in a food source. Supplies to District 2 had been so limited during the final days of the war, there would have been a high likelihood that someone would be desperate enough to break into a locked silo. Maybe the Capitol even rigged it before the war, since stealing is punishable by death: instant, cruel justice.

They split up to look for the triggering mechanism and Gale easily spots it: a trip wire connected to the dispensary door. "Over here," he calls, pointing to the wire. "The explosive must be inside."

Milo swears as he inspects the structure. "This is going to take hours to dismantle. And see that fracture?" He points to a small crack in the adjoining rock wall near one of the silo's support poles. "It destabilizes that whole overhanging ledge above. That ledge could fall with even the slightest detonation. Bastards."

Gale looks at the ledge and sees how if it collapsed, it could generate enough debris to block the road. Another benefit to rigging this structure… He leaves Milo to plan out the dismantling while he circles the other side of the silo. Like he suspected: a second detonation trigger. This one is linked to the loading chute system at the top of the silo, another potential access route to the grain.

As far as the bomb technology goes, it's pretty straight forward stuff. He motions for Specialist Yates to come over and work with Milo's people, and then continues to the bridge at the end of the valley. The bridge traverses a small ravine to the quarry and is surely rigged as well. Gale gets so immersed in his inspection of the bridge he barely notices the afternoon slipping away. The way the series of fuses are connected to one another under the bridge is something he hasn't seen before…

Suddenly the air is filled with an all-too-familiar sound: the chest-rattling thunder of a detonating explosive. During the microseconds it takes Gale to register what's happening, his mind is flooded with memories of the destruction of 12. Buildings half-blown apart, smoke so thick it's barely possible to make out the body parts, the excruciating sounds of pain and death. The images are quickly followed by a chaser of the television footage he watched when he woke up in the hospital after the war, featuring in a starring role the double-exploding bomb that ended the war and destroyed so many lives.

He freezes, waiting for the second explosion, but when it doesn't come his brain catches up and he realizes he's in this valley, not 12 or the Capitol, and is supposed to be keeping all these troops safe. Shaking himself back into the present moment, he turns around and sees it was the silo that blew. Orange flames and a plume of black smoke are rising from the roof, and rocky debris is still tumbling into the road.

Within seconds, he's in a full sprint to the burning structure. Everybody had sense enough to get back. Everybody he can see, at least. Two members of the explosives team are already attempting to extinguish the fire, but they're clearly outmatched and can't even get close enough to the flames thanks to the rockfall accompanying the blast.

"Report!"

"No bodies, no parts," Specialist Yates says. No casualties and no injuries. "We thought it was a C-type detonator, but it was actually an M-type. They purposefully put it in a C-type casing."

Add that to the list of tricks… "What about the shield?"

"We had it up and were remotely disarming… Trying to, at least. Grain inside's lost, though."

Screw the food; it was tesserae anyway. He doesn't know what he'd do if he lost anyone else to a bomb. _He's_ the one who was supposed to be injured or almost injured by this detonation, not the others. This didn't seem like one of the risky bombs, which he always ensures he handles. His legs start to feel wobbly and he props himself up with his rifle.

"Did you already disarm the other detonator?" He asks tersely.

"Yes. Although there's a chance it was also in the wrong casing…"

"Retreat," Gale orders. "We let it burn out on its own." He hollers up the valley for the rest of the squad to return to the staging area in the mouth of the valley. Once he's sure all the squad members are a safe distance from the flame-engulfed silo, he starts walking back as well.

He's still close enough to the silo that the displaced air from the second explosion knocks him face-first to the ground, almost before he hears the accompanying boom. As the fine dust from the road bathes him, he debates whether to get up or not. He can feel the heat and the crackling sounds of the fire approaching, spreading along the roadside's dry grasses and scrubby bushes… It would be especially fitting if he died by burning, and as long as there was a closed casket it wouldn't be as devastating for his family… But actually picturing his funeral and his mother having to explain what happened to Rory, Vick, and Posy snaps his mind back into place; he can't inflict that on them after all they've been through. They don't deserve that.

He pushes himself up from the ground and starts to stagger away, only to find himself emptying his stomach behind a large boulder. It could be because of the shock wave, but this has been happening more and more frequently lately and he's starting to suspect his body is rejecting him, too. Trying to purge whatever it is inside that's rotten.

When he stops shaking, he continues back to the tent to report to Riggs about his latest failure and endangerment of others. The troops are milling around the transport truck and casually watching the silo burn. Gale finds Riggs and Milo in the main tent, inspecting schematics of what look like the different types of detonator casings.

"Clear," he reports. "The fire isn't going anywhere fast enough to be a serious threat. But the grain's lost and the road to the bridge is blocked."

Riggs nods. "Fine trade-off in my book." He frowns and hands Gale a canteen. "Looking a little green, Lieutenant."

Gale's no blusher, but he wouldn't mind shriveling into a pebble that someone could chuck into a canyon never to be seen again. How mortifying: his commanding officer can see that he's a mess. He never used to be this way, could handle any hardship that came his way because he had to protect his family, or because any war-related stress put him one step closer to getting rid of the Capitol. But now that the Capitol's gone, he can't seem to shake the haunting memories of the past year, even when he's not actively remembering them. The insulating layer of hate has melted away, leaving him exposed and uncentered. Or maybe it's more that the hate is directed inward now.

"I'm fine," he insists, trying to hide that how much pressure he's putting on the chair in front of him so they won't see that his legs are wobbly again.

"Ventus is going to oversee the fire extinguishing and I need to report to Command about this setback in the schedule," Riggs says. "They've been on my ass to get this road cleared so they can start using that quarry again." Gale's aware of the need to start using the stones for the reconstruction of the many buildings that were destroyed in the war. "I need you to go talk to them." Riggs gestures behind him toward the mouth of the valley.

Gale nods. He always appreciated updates when he was a Soldier before his promotion—he knows they're probably wondering if they're staying here for the rest of the day or leaving early, whether they're coming back tomorrow, and whether any of that means they can live it up tonight at the rec hall on base.

"Any special orders?"

Riggs squints. "Orders?"

"For the troops?"

"No, talk to the _press_." He snorts. "Don't I wish I could order _them_ to get the hell out of here."

Gale stares blankly at Riggs, hoping he's not serious. Being on active duty in the field again has sheltered him from having to deal with reporters, camera crews, and all the associated nonsense. He went through so much agony with those scumsuckers during Katniss' trial, and he's been grateful for the respite. They can't get onto the military bases, can't harass him for interviews, can't pester him for details about Katniss…

"_Hawthorne._ That's an order. It means get your ass in gear and get those jackals out of our hair."

"And say what?"

"Flirt with them for all I care, just get them out of our way. Their vans are blocking the road and the fire relief is going to be here soon."

Gale salutes and makes sure to take his rifle with him in case he needs to use it to steady himself again. Or threaten someone. But he isn't shaking anymore; when he's angry—an emotion reporters never fail to inspire—he's fine. He walks out to the road where the news vans are parked, annoyed at the flirting comment and trying to catalog what's worth sharing about their mission. The camera crews are filming the leaping flames and snaking plume of smoke, so visually they'll be satisfied. Maybe they're concerned that food supplies will be further impacted by the loss of this silo…

A knot of reporters are standing near the barricades and when they spot him they train their cameras on him and perk up. There are too many reporters and not enough news, leading to situations like this where they trail behind fairly routine military missions in the hopes that something will go wrong. Like today. They _could_ be doing something useful like covering the Reconstruction Committee's first week of business; but footage of old windbags sitting in meetings and squabbling in fancy language doesn't make for exciting television the way burning buildings do.

"We need you all to clear out," he announces brusquely when he's close enough to be heard. "The fire vehicles need to come through this way."

Two of the reporters start murmuring to one another and he inwardly braces himself—he knows what's coming next. They've recognized him. He never thought he'd be famous for being Katniss' _sidekick_ and hates that he's become one of the most familiar faces in the country.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne!" A red-haired man around Gale's age waves his arms above his head as though he desperately needs to be rescued. "Is this a high priority mission for the army?"

"Securing the safety of roadways is always a high priority."

"Is your personal involvement indicative of this being a high priority mission for the Mockingjay?"

Gale stares at the idiot, not willing to entertain such a stupid question. "All soldiers care about the safety of public roads."

"Has the Mockingjay deemed District 2 transportation issues of higher importance than other districts' reconstruction?"

_Does the Mockingjay give a rat's ass about any of this?_ No. _Is the mockingjay a destroyed shell of a person thanks to her supposed best friend?_ Yes.

But they didn't ask those questions. They never ask the right questions because they're cheap, headline-seeking bottom dwellers. He scans the crowd and asks, "Does anyone else have questions that might actually lead to useful information?"

The red-haired reporter tries again. "Lieutenant, does the Mockingjay—"

"All right, anybody but this joker," Gale interrupts, turning away from the idiot. "You," he says, pointing to a short man who looks to be in his 40s. "What do you want to know?"

"How many roads in this sector still pose threats to safety?"

"Enough that I wouldn't go wandering unless you have a death wish. Anything blocked is blocked for a reason."

"When will the army be finished clearing the roads?"

"Longer if you keep distracting us from real work. This is routine. And no, nobody was injured, thanks for your concern. Now clear out so our fire vehicles can get through and go find some real news to report." He glares at the reporters to discourage additional questions, and then spins and marches back to the tent.

Riggs is just logging off the video monitor that allows communication with Command. "They gone?"

Gale glances back and sees the vans pulling away, or at least clearing a space for the fire trucks to get through. "Looks like it."

"Good. Brief the troops that we're quitting for the day and will resume at 0700 tomorrow."

#

Milo is a certified weasel and somehow tricks Gale into a night at the rec hall on base, arguing that they need to celebrate that nobody was injured in the fire and that if they don't toast the fire crew, they'll be shunned from proper soldiering society. He'd rejected Gale's excuses that the mission was a failure and that Gale could care less about his standing in the military social circles, but Commander Riggs overheard the exchange and made an offhanded comment about setting a good example for subordinates, leaving Gale no choice but to go and fake a good mood.

He's embarrassed to see his face on the news on the television in the rec hall. The gossip news, not even the real news. God, he hates televisions. What have televisions ever brought him but trauma from Hunger Games broadcasts, propaganda battles, and sidelining him from getting to fight in the war? Some idiot analyst is speculating—authoritatively—about how upset he is over Katniss because he was rude to the reporters today. A second talking head is rehashing his testimony at Katniss' trial, complete with footage of him yelling at the prosecutor who was questioning him. He's seen that scene so many times he feels like he was watching it along with the rest of the country rather than having lived it.

"Turn that off, will you?"

A soldier he's seen around the base before turns up the volume. "Not a chance, Hawthorne. They're promising an exclusive with that blonde they caught you with last week. Apparently she's having your love child—"

Gale pushes roughly past the jerk and changes the channel himself. Coverage of the grand train station opening is going to have to satisfy everyone. Made-up stories about him and the mail delivery woman he helped last week when she sprained her ankle on one of the many potholes in this stupid district will have to be ignored. He confiscates the remote and hides it behind the bar, helping himself to another drink since he's already there. The thought of his mother having to watch these tawdry broadcasts makes him ill. And Katniss... Well, she probably wouldn't touch a television with a ten-foot pole and most likely isn't seeing any of it.

In general, he tries not to think of anything Katniss-related. He unceremoniously slides into an empty stool facing away from the television and scans the room. Mistake. A girl he only vaguely remembers talking to in the commissary a few days ago is walking toward him and nothing about her makes him want to continue their conversation. He'd asked which brand of soap was better—they were both the cheapest, leaving him confused about which to buy—and she took it as a sign of interest. Virtually every interaction he has lately leaves him feeling lonely, since he's automatically suspicious of anyone who gets too friendly with him. They probably want to get caught in a photo or by one of the ubiquitous television or tabloid cameras.

"You disappeared the other day," the soap expert says in what she probably thinks is a seductive tone, setting her drink on the counter. He thinks she just sounds whiny.

"Emergency." He looks around the room for an escape route, or at least someone else he knows who'd be marginally less annoying than this girl.

She leans in closer to him and he catches a whiff of something… artificial. "You should learn to relax… All that hard work protecting the people of the district…"

He takes a deep drink from his glass, buying himself some time to debate whether he should just leave now. She's annoying, but she's also Not Katniss. Fair-haired and pale, devoid of any spark of color aside from whatever she's painted onto her lips and eyes. And the reporters aren't allowed on base so she's not actually angling for a moment in the spotlight; well, for now.

He's saved from having to respond by the appearance of a young messenger, saluting him eagerly. The kid clearly lied about his age to get this job on the base; good for him.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne! You're to report to Main 105 immediately!"

"Duty calls," he says mock apologetically to Not Katniss, turning away from her before he can see her reaction. He doesn't care. As he leaves he sees Milo holding court at the pool table and decides he doesn't need to say good-bye; he'll figure out soon enough he's been ditched. Probably expected it sooner, even.

The cool night air is refreshing after the overly warm interior of the rec hall. Spring is just getting going and seems to arrive later in District 2 than it ever did in 12, possibly because of the elevation. Not that there's much hint of spring in the urban parts of the district where the town center and military base are located, where drabness and stone dominate the landscape. But the Bomb Squad spends a lot of time in the outlying villages and Gale's been lost frequently enough to have noticed the beginnings of wildflowers popping up in some of the open areas and along the roadsides.

He finds the Commander in room 105, looking over some papers at one of the flimsy army desks. Commander Riggs is sturdy, a former quarry man, and makes the desk look like it's too small and made of cardboard. Gale salutes the Commander and studies the rank insignia on the man's lapel, wondering momentarily if he'll stay enlisted long enough to get that many bars on his uniform. Or stay alive long enough. He knows he doesn't want to go back to being a miner, but the idea of having choices has been surprisingly paralyzing. His main criteria for life decisions lately are what will hurt the least number of people and what will allow him to do that other than sequestering himself in a cave.

"At ease, Lieutenant. I know you're off duty. New assignment, special request from President Paylor."

Gale finds himself suddenly anything but 'at ease.' The last special assignment had involved a trip back to the Capitol to watch Katniss execute Snow, end up murdering Coin, and then try to kill herself. And then the trip had turned into an extended stay so he could testify at her trial. Every second was an acute reminder of how much Katniss hates him now and how heartily he agrees with her. He says a silent prayer that the assignment doesn't involve anything related to Katniss or District 12, not wanting to inflict himself on her in person. He'll desert if necessary.

"President Paylor wants you to serve as one of the military representatives on the Reconstruction Committee," Commander Riggs says. "Specifically, she wants you to interface with the press corps. We're already sensing public resistance to the Committee's credibility. You think well on your feet and you're a familiar face on the broadcasts as the Mockingjay's most trusted companion. That continuity could be important toward building support for the reconstruction efforts."

Gale realizes he must not be hiding his disgust for this idea, because Commander Riggs adds, "I understand your reluctance. I'm a soldier, too, Lieutenant. But the fighting is largely over. Think of it this way: this is the next front of the war, and this is the best way for you to contribute."

'Contributing' sounds suspiciously like something Madge would have latched onto. But no way is Gale going to be a televised jackass.

"Sir," he begins his protest, and then pauses, not sure how it will be taken. You don't argue with a commanding officer about your assignment… Especially if it's coming from the president. But the Commander gestures for him to keep talking, so he figures it's all right to _discuss_ the posting. "I'm not the right person for this job. I was pretty short with those reporters today in the valley."

"What do you think inspired these new orders?" The Commander has the gall to grin at Gale's discomfort. "President Paylor wants you to abuse the press all you like. The public is just as suspicious of government and the media as you are, and that's why she wants someone like you in this position."

While Gale wonders how forcefully he can insist that he not be given this new assignment without appearing to be declining orders, Commander Riggs continues talking. "All the Committee members are… shall we say, more seasoned than you. Necessarily, since they have the expertise the new government needs, but the Committee is lacking a youthful voice, a particularly dangerous omission considering the average age of the rebel soldiers." Well below the average age of the Committee members—people like him. He's all too aware of the griping amongst the enlisted soldiers on this same topic and it sounds like the big wigs have been listening, too. "The president wants someone skeptical—an embodiment of the rebels—to be critical and to accurately report on the Committee's progress. Or lack thereof. Understandably, the Committee is also a little thin on members from 12."

Gale glowers in the direction of the table between them, still horrified at this idea. "Sir, what about my current assignment? The district isn't safe yet."

"Getting closer, and that work will continue without you. Ventus has picked up on your tricks and can carry on paired with a technician." Riggs steps closer and puts his hand on Gale's shoulder. "Between us, Hawthorne, I think some time away from bombs might do you some good."

Gale starts to protest, but Riggs steps back and holds up his hand. "I'll remind you that these are orders, not suggestions, Lieutenant. Get packed. You're to report to the Committee tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

The Commander returns to his cardboard desk and picks up the phone, eyeing Gale expectantly until Gale forces himself to turn and exit. He numbly walks back to his quarters, trying to digest how his attempt to pay back some of the damage he inflicted during the war has been twisted into yet another media spectacle. He signed up for another tour of duty partially to get out of the public eye, and now he's being ordered back into it as one of his primary duties.

It's cruel, and Gale decides that it's actually appropriate: at least this assignment will ensure that he's miserable and suffering like he deserves.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I know, where is Madge? Next chapter! And yes, Gale is depressed and negative. MJ has that effect on people.


	2. Stewing

Chapter 2 - Stewing

(During the rebellion)

Madge stands in the shadows next to what used to be the main market in District 6. If she counts to ten and doesn't hear any more shelling, she'll make a run for it to the makeshift food office across the square. At least there hasn't been any heavy bombing yet today, just scattered gunfire, and most of it is on the other side of town in the refinery sector.

She counts to 20 to be safe and still hesitates—maybe she needs to count to 30. Or 50. But then her stomach reminds her why she needs to do this and before she can second-guess herself she starts weaving through the debris to the door marked 'Delivery Entrance.' If Patty was right, this is where she can activate their ration cards. If not, and she gets caught with false identification papers… Well, hopefully she can bluff her way out of any problems. It's worth the risk.

Nervously clutching the precious papers, Madge focuses on the woman standing in front of her in the line. Like the others, and probably like Madge herself, the woman looks anxious and too skinny. Food shipments have been scattered at best since the heavy fighting started. Not that Madge knows what this district was like without the fighting. Ever since she woke up several weeks ago in the safe house on the outskirts of town, the district has faced nearly constant bombing and street battles. The safe house is far enough out of the way that most of the noise sounds distant, but every once in a while a particularly large or powerful explosion will rattle the light fixtures and send Madge running into Simon's room for reassurance that he hasn't died, too.

When she reaches the front of the line, she slides their papers across the table to the tired woman on the other side. "Two ration cards, please." She hopes her voice sounds steady, but can hear that it doesn't. Hopefully the woman attributes it to the stresses of war, not fraud. Although, in fairness, they should be entitled to rebel rations the same as anyone else.

The woman inspects the papers. "Sylvia and Melvin Wells. Natives of Six?"

Madge nods earnestly. That's what the papers say. She prays the woman doesn't ask her anything that requires in-depth knowledge of this district.

"Where's Melvin?" The woman asks with a frown, leaning out to look around Madge.

"He was injured in the bombing." True enough; Simon sure can't walk yet and he was injured by bombs. What does it matter that the bombs were dropped in 12 rather than 6—the bombs came from the Capitol. "We've only recently run out of the food we'd saved."

The sound of a distant bomb detonating momentarily silences everyone in the line; Madge knows they're all calculating where it might have fallen. A teenaged boy near the window calls out, "Stadium area," and everyone visibly relaxes. It's the decoy supply yard the rebels set up.

"Here." The ration card woman shoves two cards toward Madge. "Next building over for the packages. One per person."

Madge eagerly grabs the cards and can almost taste the food they represent. Will the rations include pancake mix? Apples? She's actually considered eating paper over the past few days she's been so hungry, and Simon will never recover if he doesn't get some proper nutrition.

"Hope your brother gets better soon," the woman tells Madge, distracting her from salivating over the ration cards.

"Thanks," Madge mumbles as she moves out of the line. She and Simon are using duplicate copies of the identification papers he'd originally forged for her and Gale. He claimed they were the best age matches amongst recent deceased citizens of District 6 in the population database, but she suspects giving them identities as a brother and sister had been his idea of a joke, a way of needling Gale from afar about being fake related to yet another girl he didn't want to be related to. It still annoys Madge on principle—she and Gale look nothing alike and could never have pulled off being related so it was a risky move, although as far as Simon knew, Madge was going to be in District 6 and Gale was going to be in District 12 for the indefinite future. But now Madge is in 6 with Simon and Gale is… Well, she's clinging to hope. In the meantime, it works out well for her to be posing as related to Simon, since they do have similar coloring and his hair is only a few shades darker than hers.

She starts walking to the building where the food packages are, restraining herself from running. This line is even longer and while they're waiting, another round of bombs land in the vicinity north of the district where the closest oil fields are located. All the oil has long since been burned—she's not sure if by the Capitol or the rebels—and her main reaction, aside from the anxiety bomb blasts always trigger, is relief that the bombs are being wasted in an area away from the population centers. Maybe the Capitol will run out of weapons… Although she supposes it's equally likely the rebels will run out first.

After she collects the two packages, she stows them carefully inside her coat so she won't be a target for thieves and begins the long walk back to the safe house. Patty will probably be worried about her. Simon, too, although he'll hide it by hassling her about how long she took on this errand.

On the walk back, she gets a better look at the damage in the district. Some areas resemble the pictures she's seen on the Capitol's news broadcasts of 12—a total wasteland. She's never been able to watch more than a few seconds of those shots before the tears blur her vision. It's only been a month since her world ended, and only a couple of weeks since she's been well enough to walk around on her own. This was her first excursion beyond the yard by herself, and she'd only worked up the courage for this one out of sheer desperation and concern for Simon.

The familiar three-story, light blue house surrounded by low shrubs comes into view as she rounds the corner with the broken flag pole, triggering Madge to run the rest of the way because she's so eager to share her success and the much-needed food.

Patty opens the door and pulls her into a hug. "You made it," she breathes.

Madge nods into Patty's shoulder, unable to speak. Patty knew her father when he worked in Six and has helped nurse both Madge and Simon back to health over the past month, though Madge avoided her kindnesses initially, preferring to be mute and miserable as she mourned her parents. Even a pat on the shoulder would send her into a flurry of crying—if she couldn't have her mother or father hugging her, she didn't want anyone. It felt like a betrayal somehow. But Patty had a cache of letters and photos her parents had sent over the years, and quietly left the pile on Madge's bed one day. In some incremental way, it's helped… Madge can at least think of Patty as a sort of like a long-lost relative now. The rest of the time, Madge convinces herself she's on a trip and will see her parents as soon as she can get out of this district. That had been her plan before the bombing—relocating to District 6 to protect them—and it's easiest to stick with it.

"I got the food," Madge says, pulling herself away and drawing the packages out from inside her coat.

"Oh thank goodness." Patty gathers the boxes in her arms. "I'll see if we can pull together a decent lunch."

"Need help?" Madge always offers, even though her best kitchen skill is eating whatever other people prepare. Occasionally they'll let her tidy up after a meal, but she can tell by the scornful looks she gets from the other refugees that she's not great at cleaning, either. But there haven't been any meals for so long now, there's been nothing to either eat or tidy.

"Why don't you go check on the Persnickety Patient," Patty suggests. "He has some news for you."

Madge nods and finishes taking her coat off and then walks back to Simon's room, hoping news of her successful excursion will catapult him into a better mood. Being bed-ridden does not agree with him, but his left leg was broken in so many places, it will be quite a while before he can put any weight on it. And then there are his arm and ribs…

She pauses in his doorway to assess his likely reaction and sees that he's scowling at the TV in the corner of the room. Knocking lightly, she enters and moves to sit in her usual chair next to his bed. But it's already occupied: a large cardboard box has taken her place.

Simon looks over at her. "Took you long enough. Did it work?"

"Sure did, _Melvin_," she says, tossing his ration card onto his lap.

"God, what a stupid name," he mutters, turning the card over with his free hand.

"You picked it." They've had this conversation before and any disparagement Simon has for the alternate identity he created for Gale rubs her the wrong way. He usually knows not to push it, but apparently he's in an especially bad mood today.

"What's all this?" She asks, gesturing toward the box on _her_ chair. "Are you trying to get rid of me?" She's spent most of her waking time in District 6 in that chair, first because she didn't want to talk to anyone else until Simon woke up, and then because she wanted to make sure he was healing. After all his surgeries, he slept a lot and she'd just sit in the chair and think about her parents, Gale, and everyone else she ever knew in life who she didn't have anymore.

"The Wicked Witch was here," Simon says in a surly tone, looking even more disgruntled.

Madge feels her face slide into a similar sneer and she instantly wants to get away from the box, too. She walks to the other side of the bed and climbs up to sit next to him.

"Ow—ribs!"

"Sorry," she mutters, readjusting so she isn't putting any pressure on his torso. He can sit up now, so she thought his ribs were better, but she'll have to be careful. Simon as a patient is nothing like her mother was, which is helpful in a strange way because taking care of him doesn't remind her as acutely of all the time she spent tending to her mother at home… She adjusts his pillow delicately. "So, what did she say?"

"The usual cryptic garbage. She still isn't telling me anything more about what's going on. We worked together for a _year_!"

Madge glowers at the invading box. She and Simon both have developed what she acknowledges is an irrational dislike of the woman responsible for rescuing them from the burning inferno of District 12. Fiona had been a member of the team of Capitol officials from Simon's office who'd been sent to 'monitor' District 12 during the Quarter Quell. Most had left well before the bombs started raining down and the remaining few escaped with the Peacekeepers on the trains. Madge vaguely recalled Fiona as a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair who always looked pissed off and who had left 12 on the morning of the Final Eight interviews. When the power shut off in 12 after Katniss blew up the arena, Fiona had intercepted one of Simon's calls seeking an explanation for what was happening in 12 and had sent a hovercraft to extract Simon and the Undersees, hurriedly telling Simon that they would all be valuable rebel assets.

He explained later to Madge that he hadn't known she was a rebel or what to make of the comment, but figured a hovercraft ride out of a burning district was better than the alternative and then tried to get Madge and her parents to the rendezvous point. When none of them had shown up, the hovercraft team had ventured into the blazing district and found the unconscious and badly injured Simon and Madge in the Undersees' yard and dragged them back to the hovercraft for a narrow escape.

That was about as much as Madge and Simon had been able to piece together once they were both conscious at the safe house. Fiona has appeared only once before today—a couple of weeks ago, after Simon woke up—and they'd been able to get out of her during that first visit that she was part of the rebels' underground network in the Capitol and had been scouting the Undersees for recruitment. She'd discovered Simon's efforts to create two sets of false identification papers and assumed they were for Madge and Simon, that they'd fallen in love and were going to join the rebels together undercover with new identities in District 6. Madge had almost started laughing for the first time since the bombing, but Simon had pinched her to get her to shut up and she understood immediately: he didn't want to give Fiona any additional information since she wasn't sharing everything with them.

Highest on Fiona's list of current offenses is that she isn't letting them contact anyone else… Even though normal intra-district communications are totally destroyed—everything used to go through the Capitol and obviously that's not an option anymore—Simon had tried to get Fiona to connect them some other way. He hasn't been able to check on his mother and brother in the Capitol, and according to Fiona it's impossible for them to talk to anyone in 13. She did confirm that Rebel Headquarters in 13 had rescued the few souls who'd managed to get out of 12, but she didn't know who specifically was there (Gale? He survives everything, doesn't he?) other than Katniss and Haymitch. Madge saw for herself what happened to Peeta—he was in a Capitol propo recently defending Katniss. _That_ had been tough to watch, knowing how evil the Capitol is and that Peeta was completely within their control…

Fiona had also supplied them with duplicate copies of the identification papers Simon had made, although Madge and Simon had put off using them for as long as possible. Besides the inherent risk, Madge had worried that if Gale had survived, maybe he was already using the papers Simon gave him. But conditions in 6 were so dire they finally didn't have a choice. As Simon bluntly pointed out, if Gale had even rescued his papers from the burning district, he was either dead or being cared for in District 13, so the papers weren't a life and death issue for him the way things were becoming in District 6. And with all the communications fried, any duplications wouldn't be discovered any time soon.

"Did Fiona stay long?" Madge asks. "Did she say anything about what she might need us for later?"

Simon makes a snorting noise. "What do you think? Pretty much dropped that box off and said we'd talk later. Whenever she decides to grace us with her presence again…"

Madge understands why Simon could be an 'asset' once he's functional again—he knows so much about the central administration office, he could really be disruptive working against the Capitol. If he'd had any lingering doubts about which side he was on, being nearly killed in the bombing of 12 had decided for him. But all Fiona has said about Madge is that she needs to heal and may be needed at some point in the future for an important project, which actually supplies Madge with another reason to be resentful: Fiona's purely utilitarian approach of thinking of people in terms of their value to the rebellion. Madge's parents were also potential assets for their connections to other likely rebel leaders in other districts and for their knowledge of how the Capitol operated, and therefore, were worth saving in Fiona's eyes. But since they died in 12, they don't even seem to register with Fiona anymore, like pieces of equipment that broke down and have been discarded along the side of a road. It doesn't make Madge very inclined to want to help with the vague, theoretically important mission awaiting her.

A dramatic combination of drums and trumpets blasts forth from the TV, startling Madge into almost falling off the bed. Another Capitol propo—the networks somehow increase the volume for them. It's a new one: mouth-watering images of food followed by shots of derailed trains, with brightly colored fruits and long, luscious loaves of bread spilling into a muddy mess next to the tracks. Peacekeepers are standing over the ruined shipment, shaking their heads as though it's a shame all this food was wasted.

"Traitors in our midst," a voiceover ominously states. "Sabotaging deliveries and directly causing _your_ suffering. Report all suspicious activity to the nearest Peacekeeper authorities."

"Poor effort," Simon condemns when the propo ends. He reaches for something to throw at the TV with the hand that isn't in a cast, but the nightstand is empty and Madge notices there's already an assortment of pens, pill bottles, and his clock on the floor near the TV. She'll have to pick those up so he can have more ammunition later. Critiquing the Capitol's propos is one of his favorite pastimes, since he's stuck in bed watching them all over and over again. He slouches back against his pillows. "Everyone knows the people in that propaganda office are just putting in their time until there's an opening for a Hunger Games analyst. You'd think they could step it up during an actual war."

Madge agrees the propo wasn't very effective. People in the districts are hungry, not stupid. They know the Capitol is the reason they have no food, and the Capitol seems to forget that the districts didn't have enough food before the rebellion started, either.

But that bread in the propo looked gorgeously delicious… Thinking of food reminds Madge to check if Patty has managed to concoct something for lunch yet, so she scoots off the bed and wanders into the kitchen. She finds Patty stirring something gray in a large pot. It doesn't look edible.

"Tesserae, oil, and protein powder," Patty says grimly in response to Madge's confused expression.

"And we eat it… like that?" It looks like they should be using it to repair damage from bombs, not eating it.

Patty stands on her tiptoes and pulls a small bottle from an upper cupboard. "I can add some extracts to mask the flavor." She shrugs. "It's calories."

Madge leans against the counter and absently reaches up to twirl her hair, amazed and disturbed at the fact that she's hungry enough to eat Mysteriously Flavored Gross Plaster Stew. But her hand closes around itself, not hair, and she remembers with a jolt that she cut most of it off. Well, the parts that hadn't already been burned off. There isn't much twirling she can do with the short, messy chunks remaining—she's going to need to find a new nervous tic. And to avoid mirrors for the foreseeable future. Her refugee clothes—a mishmash of ill-fitting handoffs Patty found after Madge arrived in a bloody tank top, shorts, and broken sandals—aren't helping her appearance. At least she fits in with all the other refugees.

"_Madge!_" The sound of Simon shouting from his room shocks her into alertness. There's an urgency to his tone suggesting he doesn't just need to her reach for something for him.

She dashes back to his room, fighting the rising panic at the thought of anything happening to him. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Look," he says, pointing to the TV screen. "Turn it up."

Madge turns the volume knob on the old television and nearly keels over when she sees the image of Katniss wearing some kind of bird costume and describing a Capitol attack on a hospital in District 8. A hospital! Full of wounded people who posed absolutely no threat! Well, it's not like Madge had any doubts about the true depths of evilness the Capitol is capable of…

And then there are action shots of the bombing and—GALE ALIVE AND FIGHTING. Madge gasps and for support grabs onto the dresser the TV is sitting on. Gale and Katniss are both taking down Capitol hoverplanes with mechanized, explosive arrows. She watches the propo in an ecstatic trance, mesmerized and more hopeful than she's felt since losing everything.

It's over too soon. The regular programming—a show about the Capitol's architectural wonders—returns, but Madge keeps staring at the TV as though it might burst back into showing Katniss and Gale again at any second.

She doesn't realize she's crying until she feels the tear detach from her chin and plummet to the floor. When the architecture show continues to drone on, she swivels to face Simon and sees him staring at the box Fiona left. He notices her looking at him and raises his eyebrows.

"Boyfriend looked good," he observes.

Madge glances back at the TV, still uncooperatively not showing Katniss and Gale, and closes her eyes briefly, remembering the fierce expression on Gale's face when he was shooting at those planes and how many times she'd seen that same expression back home. He did look good in his rebel uniform, too—natural, like wearing that uniform was what he was always meant to do. She smiles, thinking of how he's not only alive and healthy, but he's finally getting the opportunity to fight back, with real weapons. What he'd always wanted: weapons… and Katniss. She trips over her thoughts for a moment, confused about her reaction. As long as she's been friends with Gale, the two things he wanted most but didn't have were the ability to fight the Capitol and Katniss, and now he has both.

She squelches the kernel of jealousy in her stomach—it's beyond irrelevant and she's probably just hungry—and turns back to Simon. There's something in his eyes that wasn't there before: optimism. And she realizes she feels it, too. The two people she trusts most in the world to successfully fight the Capitol and survive are Katniss and Gale, and there they were, leading by example and inspiring whoever else saw this propo.

But… the Capitol completely controls the broadcasts… "Simon, how did the rebels get that on the air?"

"I have no idea, but I'm impressed." He stares at the TV for a moment, frowning in concentration. "Maybe someone on the inside in the broadcast center had a recording… But that would be a suicide mission. I guess it's possible someone on the outside knew enough to override the primary broadcast feeds…"

"Can we go to 13?" She knows she sounds like she did when she was little and would try to get her mother to take her to the sweet shop.

"Yes, let's just stroll over there tomorrow," Simon says with a roll of his eyes. Madge berates herself for asking; she knows everything he does and neither of them knows much. They can't even call 13 and Simon is immobile, so obviously going to 13 isn't going to happen any time soon. The most they can do is ask Fiona the next time she drops in to check on them.

Suddenly she's more curious about what Fiona left for them in the box, and sees that Simon is, too. They both look at the box and then he softly jerks his head, indicating for her to bring it over to his bed. She lifts it up and he scoots over so they can both inventory its contents.

Inside are several notebooks, ledgers, and papers Madge doesn't understand, and some small electronic devices. It's all meaningless to her, but Simon looks intrigued and gets more energized the deeper he delves into the papers.

"Well, _Sylvia_… You interested in a project?" He grins deviously and she smiles back, encouraged at the prospect of doing something more than retrieving ration cards and grousing about how frustrating it is to not know what's going on.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm aiming for once a week updates with this story, but wanted to get this chapter out sooner since it was ready and because I felt bad that I've left everyone hanging for so long about Madge's fate. Also, she's not finished mourning… we caught her on a good day here. And sorry this was a little info-dump-y - I wanted to get through the background and keep the story going.

Thanks for all the reviews and favoritings! I appreciate it!


	3. Diamond at the Bottom of the Drain

**Chapter 3 - Diamond at the Bottom of the Drain**

"And Districts 3, 5, and 8 have been declared free of unexploded ordnance; next priority is repairing critical roads, bridges, and railway tracks so land-based trade can resume." Gale glances up briefly from his notes and squints into the cameras, lights, microphones, and sea of faces hanging onto his every word. He's still not used to giving the press briefings, not even after a full month of doing this. Although, comparatively speaking, this part isn't that bad as long as they don't interrupt, and he's nearly to the end.

He looks back down at his papers. "Last, travel issues. Rail routes have been restored between the Old Capitol City and the major hubs. After all military and essential personnel have been moved, civilians will be allowed to travel between districts declared safe. Subject to route and seat availability." Obviously.

He flips the folder shut and pauses for a moment, studying the patterns of the wood grain on the podium to buy some time. This next part is the worst and he tries to put it off as long as he can, but eventually has to face it. Like a battle. He looks out into the sea again and imagines the reporters are Peacekeepers, armed with cameras instead of guns. Narrowing his eyes, he issues his challenge.

"Any questions?"

Hands promptly attempt to scrape the ceiling and he scans for the least offensive looking reporter to call on. "You," he says, pointing to a nervous looking dark-haired man in the front row.

"Um, has there been a decision yet on the new government's structure?"

"No. It's slow going." Excruciatingly slow, in Gale's opinion, as someone who has to sit through the endless and seemingly pointless debates amongst the delegates. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

"What does President Paylor think about the Reconstruction Committee's pace?"

"Ask her yourself. You, in the back."

"Lieutenant, you mentioned non-essential civilian travel between the districts would be allowed… Any estimates on timing or ticket prices?"

Amazing, the rare worthwhile follow-up question. "Tracks to the major hubs will probably be open within a week or two. I don't know where people think they'll be going, but they'll be free to figure it out for themselves. Schedules and fares will be posted in the stations." He omits mentioning he doesn't know how people will afford the fares; the early estimates he'd seen were shocking. But he's also becoming aware that he and others from the poorer districts have a very different sense of what things cost compared to how natives of the Capitol and District 2 perceive prices.

"What do Committee members think of Rich Tyler's resignation?" A plump woman in a bright blue suit and matching hair calls out the question from the side of the room, much to his annoyance. He likes his press conferences to be orderly. He makes a mental note to put Blue Hair on his Trouble List; also because her question is a pathetically transparent attempt to reinvigorate last week's scandal about the married commander from District 3 who was caught having an affair with a former Hunger Games commentator.

With a sigh he looks at Blue Hair disapprovingly so she'll get it that she's on his List, but he answers the question to make a different point. "We're not thrilled to have to wait for a replacement to be appointed and then learn all the issues. Wasn't someone else just asking about delays? This kind of thing doesn't help. Make sure to take some of the credit when you report on it." That jerk Tyler of course deserves most of the blame for not being able to keep it in his pants, but the resulting media circus was so far out of proportion it still rankles and he wants them to know it.

When the questions devolve into inquiring about his opinion on the newly forming sports league, he ends the press conference with a sneering "We're done" and returns to the office where the other committee members are reviewing reports in preparation for their formal session later that day. He looks over his own notes, but Command didn't have anything particularly relevant for him to share and he suspects the rest of the day will be a struggle.

He's right. Chairperson Mercer immediately gets off schedule both by starting late and then by letting Plutarch Heavensbee play a video clip promoting some obnoxious singing program. During his first days of serving on the committee, Gale had tried to steer everyone back toward productivity and keeping to a schedule—that's how they did things in the army—but he soon learned the pointlessness of his efforts. Sometimes they just collectively needed to debate tangents, or there were political reasons for letting certain people waste everyone else's time. Heavensbee is the perfect example of that. So now Gale usually just hunkers down, tries to stay awake, and thinks about the next time he can get to the climbing wall at the old quarry near his apartment.

As the afternoon wears on and the effect of the caffeine wears off, he resorts to stabbing the point of his pen into his thigh under the table, one of the most effective tricks in his arsenal for keeping himself awake. Next, he holds a trial in his head and finds Committee Member Douglas guilty of the dual crimes of speaking in a monotone and having no point whatsoever. The man routinely drones on and on about absolutely nothing—in great detail—and Gale can't believe they haven't figured out a way to get him kicked off the Committee yet.

Actually, he does know why: Douglas is filthy rich and lent the rebels crucial financial support during the final days of the war. But that doesn't hold with Gale, since the money was no doubt earned off the labor of district types like Gale himself and because the scumbag only loaned the rebels funds once it became clear that they were going to win the war. And now the sleazoid has been rewarded with a role on the Reconstruction Committee and the privilege of wasting everyone's time on this _neverending_ afternoon.

Chairperson Mercer finally stands to make the final announcements of the day. Gale sits up straighter and glances out the window—sunny, with quite a bit of daylight left. He probably has enough time to get in a climb. Best part of his day.

"Tomorrow we're taking a tour of the quarry in Hyland Village," Mercer announces, adjusting his glasses and sounding as pinched and harassed as ever. "Directions available at the door for those unfamiliar." He glances at Gale, who scowls at his desk. Just because they gave him a defective map that made him late to the last off-site tour doesn't mean he's chronically lost. "Tour at 9:00, and then we'll be meeting in the Whistler building for the rest of our business. It's at the center of the village, can't be missed. We'll be meeting the new sub-committee members."

It's about time. There were meetings _about_ meetings to determine what the sub-committees would be, more meetings to determine each sub-committee's members, and finally it sounds like these new people will be starting to work. The president recently expanded the Reconstruction Committee's mission so its members can hash out a new structure for the government that will then be presented to the citizens of the country for a vote. That meant they needed experts in a variety of subjects to help with the planning, which Gale acknowledges was probably a good idea, but pessimistically he knows it means even more voices squabbling with one another and that their progress will be even slower.

But that's a problem for later—he's done with this stuff for today. The second they're released, he bolts from the room. It's like when he was in school in 12 and couldn't get out of the schoolhouse fast enough on the afternoons when he needed to hunt. He and Katniss used to race each other to the rock, and the loser would have to gut the fish…

The familiar feeling of dread starts to build in his chest at even a happy memory of Katniss and he decides he can't deal with the gauntlet of photographers and videographers waiting outside the front door for the exiting committee members. Instead, he targets a side door he hasn't used in a while. He's mostly successful—there are only a couple of reporters waiting and they clearly weren't expecting him because they only get a few pictures.

As tempting as it would be to tell them off and smack their intrusive cameras out of their hands, he restrains himself. The types who lurk in alleys feel entitled to follow him everywhere in hopes that they can provoke him into doing something interesting, and he learned the hard way that destroying their cameras qualifies as interesting. Unfortunately, not doing anything isn't much better, since these types have no qualms making up stories about him. Beyond the lies, the feeling of being hunted, rather than doing the hunting, is what really burns.

He cuts through the downtown area, slipping first into the shoe store on Second Avenue and then using the linked internal doorway to enter the outdoor gear store, where the owner lets him use the back door as an alternate exit. His pursuers haven't figured this trick out yet. He decides he might as well pick up a new climbing rope while he's here, since his is getting frayed. Nodding a greeting to the owner, a graying man who rarely moves from behind the counter, he heads straight to the rope section.

"Got a shipment of yew in today," the owner says from across the room. There isn't anyone else in the store, so Gale realizes the man is talking to him, even though he appears to be studying a catalog from his stool at the counter.

"I need some rope," Gale calls back, running his hands over the strong, brightly colored smooth cords to test how they feel.

"Good quality yew branches," the man continues, now raising his eyes to peer at Gale over his glasses. "Strong, elastic. Thought you might be interested."

_Why would he… Oh. Branches..._ He realizes the man is suggesting Gale could make a bow from the wood. District 2 used to have a thriving black market trade in weapons—families who wanted their kids to volunteer for the Hunger Games could easily (though illegally) obtain nearly any weapon imaginable as long as they used them in private. So many families had relatives serving in the Peacekeeper forces and the district was so coddled in general that nobody was all that concerned about the weapons being turned against the Capitol… This man's business must have been part of that trade. Gale glances around the store to see what other inventory besides the ropes could have been useful for Hunger Games training and spots nets, burlap that could be used to create targets, and feathers for arrows, among other things.

Weapons for civilians are still officially illegal and as an officer Gale should probably report the guy, but he's more irritated at the man's assumption that since a bow was Gale's weapon of choice during the war, he'd likely be interested in making one now… Even though he would, he bristles at the implication that this man thinks he knows him based on what he's seen on TV. And then he feels the earlier dread start to intensify at the unintentional reminder of why he doesn't hunt anymore. He can't even explore the plentiful woods surrounding District 2 because hunting and forests trigger too many painful memories of Katniss, and Prim, and all of District 12…

Climbing, on the other hand, lets him clear his mind of anything other than which fissures will best lead him up the wall. The rocks don't remind him of anything from home—each wall poses a fresh puzzle waiting to be conquered. Added benefit that climbing uses his body, making up for being sedentary all day, and usually tires him out enough that he can sleep without having to take the pills.

He has to admit that Milo was useful at least for turning him on to climbing. They might even possibly be friends now that they don't work together anymore, though Gale doesn't put any effort into the friendship. He just doesn't decline 100% of the time when Milo invites him climbing. Milo actually shuts up once they're on the wall, apparently focusing on the climb or exorcising his own demons, and Gale finds he doesn't mind the company.

"Just the rope today," Gale says firmly as he yanks a bright red rope off the display hook and carries it to the register. He wants to warn the man to mind his own business, but he can't burn this bridge—he needs the escape route and the supplies. Luckily the owner doesn't say anything else and dutifully rings up the purchase.

Gale successfully exits through the back door and walks the few blocks to his apartment without being discovered. Although he's still officially enlisted, he's 'on detail' to the Reconstruction Committee and is being given a housing allowance instead of having to live on the military base. His apartment complex is a blocky stone building, like most of the other structures in 2, and aside from a few stray bullet holes in the stairwell, it survived the war largely intact. Probably saved by its fortifications of ugliness.

He climbs the stairs to his apartment and as soon as he approaches the door he hears the telltale creak of his neighbor's door opening. Time for the routine to begin.

"Hawthorne!" Obnoxiousness Personified is leaning out of the doorway and leering, clad in his standard lazy uniform of a pink T-shirt his belly has outgrown, too-small shorts, and bare feet. The sparse bristles on his chin round out the look to drive home that he doesn't just act like a pig. "What's the news today? Any new girlfriends you want to introduce me to?"

Gale ignores him and focuses on unlocking his door; sniping back just encourages the harassment. It's just his luck to have a nosy, annoying neighbor who doesn't appear to have anything to do other than get into his business. In a way it's refreshing that this guy is immune to the adoration virus so many other people are infected with, but it doesn't make up for the incessant hassling.

"Any more scandals from your group? It's been a few days—time for something new. I think it's _your_ turn. Maybe your loony _cousin_ has some dirt—"

He can't help himself—he lunges menacingly in the pig man's direction. Just a few feet and nowhere near making contact with the guy, but it works: he retreats back into his pen. _Coward_. Gale enters his own apartment and slams the front door behind him, leaning against the back of it and appreciating the barrier from the outside world. Some day he's not going to be able to stop himself from punching that guy's sniveling face and then he'll just end up on the news again. _Not worth it_, he reminds himself. _But just barely._

He throws his keys on the island in the kitchen and kicks off his shoes, pausing when he notices the blinking red light on his phone's display. Most of the calls he gets are from reporters who shouldn't be bothering him at home or from other people he doesn't want to talk to; his mother and commanding officers call him on the secure line at work if they need anything. But the red light, rather than the blue one, means he's out of storage space and that he's going to have to clear out some messages if he wants to continue to ignore people in peace.

He presses the button and listens to the first one. "Lieutenant Hawthorne, Darcy Scott from the Free Press. On a deadline and I'd sure appreciate a reaction quote from you about the fight you broke up last night at the Hollow Soldier Tavern—" He presses the delete button. That fight was ages ago and the deadline has passed by now, not that he'd have provided a quote anyway—the Free Press always twists their stories about him into war hero profiles.

"Gale," his mother's voice starts on the next message, "I don't know why I'm bothering with this machine since you seem to ignore it—" Delete. The message is old and he talked to her this morning from work. She didn't need anything or have important news, like usual, and he gets it that she's worried about him, but she doesn't need to call so frequently.

"Hello, this is Pam from the library. We notice you haven't returned the—" Delete.

"This is Tungsten Ferry with the District 2 Rocky Gazette, looking for an interview about—" Delete.

"Gale! Wall? Saturday at 7? Unless you're too hungover you jackass." Milo. Delete. Funny, though: he ended up running into Milo at the quarry that morning without planning on it.

"Mr. Hawthorne, this is Dr. Nash. You've skipped our last three sessions—" Therapist. Delete.

In fact, those remaining messages are all probably equally useless. He especially doesn't want to hear other messages from that head doctor who just _doesn't get it_. He deletes everything else without listening and walks to the bedroom, which is just as sparsely adorned as the rest of the apartment. That is, it has the bare minimum for functionality: here, a mattress and a dresser. He doesn't actually use the dresser, though, finding it more efficient to have one pile of clean clothes and one pile of dirty clothes.

He pauses next to the pile of clean clothes and debates whether to go straight to bed or to change so he can go for a climb like he'd planned. He still has time, but if he curled up and went to sleep right now, he could skip the bother of dinner and be unconscious until it's time to show up for work again, when he'd be guaranteed another 8 hours of distraction from how terrible he is. The risk is that if he goes to sleep right now he might wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to get to sleep again, leaving him with hours in the dark by himself with nothing but memories and images and guilt.

The vial of pills on the dresser beckon… they would ensure he wouldn't wake up until morning…

He's pulling off his dress uniform and starting to crawl into the bed when the phone rings. He doesn't even entertain the idea of answering it. The answering device switches on and Milo's disembodied voice floats through the apartment, attempting to goad Gale into meeting him at the quarry.

Gale pulls the covers over his head and decides definitively not to go. Next time. Maybe. He reaches for the pills, but then at the last second he hurls them across the room, listening to the unsatisfying sound of them bouncing off the wall and then scattering across the floor. He deserves the nightmares, too.

#

The quarry tour the next day is the least boring thing the Reconstruction Committee has done in the entirety of Gale's involvement. It's invigorating to be walking around outside, and he even feels the comforting echo of his pre-war anger to see how hard the quarry work was; the workers were probably just as frustrated as he'd been as a miner in 12.

This particular quarry is associated with the Hyland Village, one of the further outlying villages within District 2. The quarry has been shut down for a few years, but there's been talk of opening it again to satisfy increasing demand for building materials.

"You going to say good things about us to the press?" The former quarry manager asks Gale with a grin. "Build support for re-opening?"

Gale gazes coolly at the man. "You going to treat your workers fairly?"

"Sure we are," the man says with the same stupid smile, and Gale can't tell if he's joking or not. Maybe the idea of treating quarry workers well is so absurd the man feels like _Gale's_ joking with him.

Rhoda overhears the conversation and chimes in, whispering loudly to the quarry manager with the intent of having Gale overhear her. "Careful, don't set Hawthorne off. He's our toughest critic."

She grins at him so he knows she's teasing, but he's not in the mood so he continues walking down one of the loading ramps. Rhoda is the next youngest committee member and she's still at least 15 years older than him. All the committee members are from more privileged positions in their home districts, too. He's pretty sure he's the only one who used to work in a mine, or a factory, or a field, or a quarry. Between feeling so different from everyone and having to listening to their squabbling all day, it's no wonder his preferred company in his free time are the rock faces in old quarries. And it looks like this quarry has some potential… He wonders if he and Milo could sneak in here this weekend…

After the tour, the guides take them to the Whistler mansion in the center of the village. It belonged to the village's magistrate before the Capitol fell, and afterward it was seized as government property so it could be used for things like Reconstruction Committee meetings. The home's interior is lavish, full of heavy curtains, thick carpet, and ornate light fixtures, their delicacy marred only by layers of dust. The fine furnishings needle Gale in the same way the quarry did—a reminder of the injustices the people of Panem suffered for so long.

As they sit down to be introduced to the sub-committee members, he quietly asks Rhoda what a magistrate is.

"You didn't have them in 12?" She's another native of 2, where apparently magistrates were prevalent. Gale gives her his 'shut up and just tell me' look so she explains. "The mayor was in charge of all of 2, but there were so many villages that the day to day managerial tasks were delegated to a magistrate for each village."

"We only had a mayor in 12," Gale recounts. "I guess we too small to need more than him." An image of Mayor Undersee pops into his head, which of course triggers a cascade of memories of Madge. There are so many more blondes in District 2 than there were in 13, he keeps thinking he sees her and Prim everywhere. No doubt his brain is trying to find a way for them not to be dead.

"The meeting will come to order," Mercer announces with one of his typically feeble throat-clearing sounds that makes Gale want to throttle him.

They spend the rest of the day hashing out sub-committee assignments and introducing the new members to everyone else. It's actually one of the more interesting days, since things are starting to feel more concrete. He volunteers for the national security and communications sub-committees, in keeping with his role as one of the primary military liaisons and spokespersons, even though the idea of being on Plutarch Heavensbee's communications sub-committee turns his stomach. He also signs up for the ethics and justice sub-committee because he thinks he could stand to learn more about those topics, not because he has any kind of expertise to offer… Not by a long shot.

When the session adjourns for the day, Gale hangs back to monitor the press situation. A peek behind the heavy curtains in the parlor reveals that news teams are still swarming the exiting committee members for tidbits of news about the committee's progress, or even better, for salacious gossip about its members. He recognizes a few of the chronic offenders on his Trouble List and decides to wait until they leave so he doesn't lash out at them and make the headlines for that.

"Not up for the wolf pack yet?" A grizzled security guard asks Gale from the entryway as he reaches to pull some beat-up looking boxes from a closet.

"Give me real wolves any day," Gale says with a grimace as he turns away from the window. Give him his old bow and arrows at the same time and see how they'd do…

"Need some help?" He asks the guard, who's struggling with a heavy box and agrees gratefully. By the looks of him, Gale guesses he's a refugee from one of the other districts. He has that sad look of someone who's endured, and lost, too much.

"Just trying to clear out the former owner's stuff," the guard says, handing Gale the box. "Set it near the door."

Gale throws himself into helping move the boxes, which at least uses his body and leaves him with a sense of having accomplished something afterward. This man's quiet company is also a welcome break from the chattering that had so recently filled the house.

As Gale sets the last of the boxes by the door, he stretches his arms and checks out the window to be sure the reporters are gone. Finally. He moves to open the door when a photograph in the nearest box catches his eye.

He kneels to inspect it more closely: a photograph of a little girl younger than Posy with pale yellow hair and a shy smile that reminds him of the way Madge used to look when she'd spot him from a distance. He's fully aware of how sappy he is for still missing Madge and spares himself one of his internal lectures about moving on so he can indulge in remembering her for a few moments. If he doesn't, who else will?

The guard is watching Gale sadly. "It's funny. I didn't have many pictures back home, but what I wouldn't give to have just one of them…"

Gale nods. "We only had a few, but they were all that was left of my old man and now we don't even have those…" Thanks to the Capitol firebombing everything he knew. He hates thinking about how fuzzy his mental image of his father is becoming. His mom says Vick is starting to look uncannily like their father, but to Gale Vick just looks like Vick. Or at least he did the last time Gale saw him, which was before he left for the invasion of the Capitol with the Star Squad.

He's about to leave when something else in the box catches his eye. The photo right behind the one he pulled out is of a man and a woman and the same little girl, and the adults look awfully familiar.

Fishing out the photo to inspect it more carefully, he feels a shiver like a ghost just passed through his body: the man and the woman are Mayor Undersee and Madge's mom, which means the little girl is Madge. Not just some little girl who reminds him of Madge, but actually Madge. He immediately paws through the other photographs and finds a series of pictures documenting Madge growing up: infancy, toddlerhood, missing her baby teeth, sitting at the piano in their house with her mother, a whole series with pig-tails as she got older… On the back of each photograph is her age…

"Whose stuff is this?" Gale demands. "Did this belong to whoever lived here before the house was seized?"

"I think so… Why?"

"I know these people," Gale says, holding up the photographs. "Knew. In 12. Who lived here?"

"We call it the Whistler place on the caretaking schedule. So I guess someone named Whistler…"

Gale feels his hopes deflate. He remembers Madge had relatives somewhere and for a moment he had entertained the crazy idea that maybe he could find them. Just talking to someone else who knew her and remembered her might make the loss sting less. Beyond the sheer horror of that night when 12 ceased to exist, which he still tries not to think about, it haunts him how many people won't be remembered. If Madge had relatives, he could tell them about how brave she'd been and how determined she'd been to rebel even without anywhere near adequate support. It would be like a little piece of her could reach out from the ashes and be bright again.

The guard disappears elsewhere into the house so Gale keeps digging through the box, looking for more information. There are letters from Madge's parents and a few from Madge herself, written in youthful bubbly handwriting, all addressed to some Undersees who must have been her grandparents. He's able to piece together that her grandfather was the magistrate of Hyland Village, that the quarry closed after he died, and that her grandmother died some time after that.

There are also pictures of Madge's father growing up, including newspaper clippings about his career during his years before becoming the mayor of 12. The best thing in the box by far, though, is the most recent photograph of Madge, probably taken within the past couple of years. She looks close to how he remembers her…

"What are you doing?"

Gale startles and looks up. One of the new sub-committee members is walking down the stairs from the second floor while carrying a box, and she looks angry… She's tall and angular, with sharp features and light brown hair and he vaguely remembers she's some type of scholar. The way she's looking at him makes him think of the school principal in 12, who always made him feel like he was doing something wrong (admittedly, he usually was).

He stands up. "These boxes were just sitting here."

The woman glares at him, and it dawns on him that she'd been referred to in the meeting as Committee Member Whistler…

"Is this your house?" He blurts the question before he has time to wring the eagerness from his tone. He sounds the way Vick used to when someone even would mention the idea of a game of cinder ball.

"No. I've been informed on multiple occasions that this house belongs to the New Republic now."

So she's the one the house was seized from by the new government. He's not getting into that touchy issue with her. He gestures to the boxes. "I found some photos of people I knew… Do you know where I could find the Undersees' relatives? I take it they owned the house before you did."

"In a sense, I suppose they did," she says in a clipped tone. "Unfortunately, there are no more Undersees. The Capitol made sure of that."

His eyes drift back to the box he was just rifling through, with the family portrait of Madge and her parents on the top of the stack. "I knew them… In 12."

Mrs. Whistler raises her eyebrows. "Didn't everyone know them? They were the first family of the district."

"You knew them, too?" The woman nods, so Gale continues, unwilling to give up just yet. "I was friends with Madge." Friend doesn't feel like the right word for what Madge was, but it's good enough in light of this woman's hostility.

"She didn't survive? Her parents?" The woman's voice sounds slightly softer, with a hint of vulnerability.

"No." He shakes his head, fighting off the memories of the charred remains of her house, and digging through the debris in her yard while the district burned and people screamed… "How did you know them?"

"You could say we went way back…" The woman sounds nostalgic, but then she snaps out of it and sets down the box she'd been carrying.

Gale waits a few moments for her to continue, but when all she does is sort through the box, he starts to get annoyed. "Yeah, well _you_ could be more cryptic, but you'd have to really put the effort in." He realizes too late it was the kind of sarcastic comment he should have kept to himself.

Mrs. Whistler smiles faintly, though, as though she's entertained. "Just like on TV…"

He knows what she's referring to and smoothly ignores her. The ruder he is to the reporters, the more they adore him. It's convenient to not have to fake liking them, but he wishes his rudeness would be rewarded with _not having to do the press conferences_ instead.

"I'm Cliff's sister," she says, standing up to face him. "Mayor Undersee, I guess you would have known him as."

"Madge's aunt?" He'd thought all the Undersees were long gone and here he is staring at one. With a different last name, which makes sense and he doesn't know why he didn't think of it. This is better than he hoped…

Mrs. Whistler nods solemnly and squints at Gale as though reassessing him. Gale assesses her right back and decides she doesn't look anything like Madge. He can see some resemblance to her father, now that he knows to look, but Madge definitely looked more like her mother than her father. Still, this woman is a relative and surely she'll be interested in talking about Madge.

"Madge and I were… close."

He isn't quite sure what he wants to ask—'do you want to talk about her?' or 'do you have any memories you can share?'—it all sounds unbelievably stupid and he can't make the words come out. Plus this woman doesn't seem the least interested in discussing her family tragedy with some jerk who's on TV all the time. Especially the longer he lets this awkward silence grow while he thinks about what to say and while she radiates her disinterest in him.

She finally turns back to the box, pointedly ignoring Gale, and he thinks that at least that's familiar; she's making him feel as welcome as Madge's parents used to. Maybe she doesn't want to be reminded of her family being incinerated. And she probably barely even knew Madge… He knows Madge hadn't seen her relatives since she was a little kid.

He glances at the box of photos longingly: they're all that's left of Madge and he doesn't want to leave without memorizing each one… But he'd been holding the most important one—the most recent one—when the aunt arrived and had slipped it into his pocket. He'll just anonymously mail it back after he's made a copy, explaining that it was found in the mansion and must have fallen out of the box.

"Nice meeting you," he mumbles before retreating.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sorry, more emo Gale. He's trying to deal with things in his own way and not exactly succeeding. Title of this chapter comes from Neko Case's song "Magpie to the Morning." Thanks everyone for reading along and reviewing!


	4. Once a Sneak

**Chapter 4: Once a Sneak**

(District 6, during the war)

"I hate these things," Simon grumbles, throwing his crutches to the side as he hobbles into the empty chair at the computer terminal.

"Not much longer," Madge murmurs. Used to this routine, she retrieves the crutches and sets them near him so he'll have them when he needs to get around again. Which, from past experience, will be in about 5 minutes. She'd rather not have to sit through another outburst of 'Where the hell are those damn things?' when he wants to relocate.

But Simon's attention is already focused on logging in to the computer using the codes Fiona gave them. While Madge waits, she looks around the shabby room. A single bare light bulb dimly illuminates the peeling paint and specks of mold on the walls, which explains the musty smell. A few tiles from the ceiling litter the floor, no doubt shaken loose by the shelling that—fingers crossed—really is over now.

"This used to be the post office building?" Madge asks skeptically. It's definitely not functioning as a post office today. All communications outside the district—mail, phones, electronics, and whatever else—are still firmly unavailable. The rebels have been using the former post office building for whatever serves their needs. And today, it serves Madge and Simon's needs by supplying them with electricity, a functional computer, and proximity. Specifically, being within transmitting range from the bank.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, not everything is as high class as District 12," Simon mutters sarcastically, clearly only half listening to her and either not remembering or not thinking about the fact that District 12 is no more. He doesn't notice Madge's flinch at the reference, but she shakes off the uneasiness because seconds later the computer screen lights up with a logo Madge doesn't recognize, distracting her and triggering Simon to smile.

"Excellent. It worked." He swivels in the chair to turn his attention to Madge. "All right, Madgelet. _Within five feet_. That's how close the transmitter needs to be. Anything less and you might as well stay home and paint your nails."

"I only did that because that little girl needed to be distracted—"

"Whatever," Simon waves off her excuses. He doesn't spend as much time with the other refugees as she does, preferring instead to devour all those ledgers and notebooks Fiona gave them. "Closer is better, but five feet is the magic number."

"I _know_," she huffs. They've been over the plan approximately fifty thousand times. What else are they going to do in the safe house when Fiona hasn't sent for them and Simon can barely walk? She sticks out her hand. "Just give it to me."

Simon turns back to the box near the computer and retrieves two small electronic devices. He hands one to Madge and attaches the other one to the computer he's just booted up. Once she's holding the little machine in her hands, the plan suddenly feels more real and a wave of nervousness breaks over her.

"You'll be fine," Simon says nonchalantly, noticing and just as easily dismissing her anxiousness. He grins. "Just do it and then come back here and wait for the good stuff to happen."

She nods, and then looks through her purse for what must be the fifth time since they left Patty's house. All the papers she needs are still where they were when she checked three minutes ago. Good. She's ready.

"Don't break a leg," he calls as she closes the door. She takes him making jokes as a good sign. He's been in a much better mood since he's been able to do something to fight back against the Capitol, although until this moment the type of fighting he and Madge have been planning has all been theoretical.

Madge briskly exits the crumbling post office building and heads next door toward the bank, appreciating as she walks the total absence of any white uniforms. The Peacekeeper forces have formally retreated from the town area, although the fighting is continuing in the district's refinery sector and along the pipeline. The anti-aircraft machines the rebels installed in the town square are supplying her with slightly more confidence to walk around in the open again, and a glance around the square confirms that she's not the only one: she sees more people out and about than before. Even without a comparison point for what's normal in this district, all these people must be a good sign. Businesses are starting to re-open… The ones that weren't totally destroyed. Crucially, the bank is intact. Simon had explained that the Capitol wouldn't have wanted to destroy something it would need later, if it succeeded in quelling the revolt in the district, so the bank was never a target.

Madge walks up the front stairs—made out of the same type of marble the District 12 Justice Building had been constructed from, which lends the building a spooky familiarity—and stands in the short line. Banking apparently isn't a high priority for residents who've been struggling to feed themselves and avoid getting caught in cross-fire since the war began. When it's her turn to talk to the teller, she steps forward and nervously says, "New account, please."

The teller signals a co-worker who gestures for Madge to sit down with him at a desk. When she joins him, the man smiles warmly. "You're doing the right thing, Miss. It's a real vote of confidence."

"What? Starting an account?"

"Oh yes, it says a lot that you're not hoarding your cash at home. We'll take good care of it here, I guarantee you."

Madge blinks, realizing the bank is desperate for business. And hoarding does sound like a better idea than turning cash over to people this desperate and in times as uncertain as these… But that's not really her concern at the moment. She smiles mildly and pushes her fake identification papers across the table.

"Just a basic account, please."

"Certainly." He starts filling out some paperwork and Madge studies his desk for something she could use to hide the transmitter. Unfortunately, he appears to appreciate orderliness. She feels her heart start to beat faster as he nears the end of the form—she's going to have to do something soon. Simon will be furious if she blows this opportunity. He wanted to be the one to hide the device, but his crutches make maneuvering difficult and draw too much attention to him.

She leans forward to rest her elbows on the desk and props her head on her hands, intruding slightly into the banker's space. He glances up at her. "Almost finished, Miss Wells."

Madge flashes him the fake smile her mother used to give people from the Capitol when they overstayed their welcome in the Undersee house. "Are these your children, Mr. Fiery?" She gestures to the framed photograph of two little boys who look approximately the same age as Gale's brothers, assuming Gale still has brothers (which she does assume; she needs to believe he'd protect them or die trying). It's another tactic her mother employed: enquiring about family members. Always gets people talking. It's a little risky after all the fighting District 6 has seen—there's a high probability this man has lost a family member; Madge certainly did—but she figures the fact that he's displaying the picture indicates a willingness to talk.

"Yes, although my sons are a little older now," he beams, pausing to look affectionately at the picture.

"They look charming," Madge says, standing up and moving around to his side of the desk. She's doubling up on some of her mother's best tricks now—no one can resist bragging about their children and people love to be told they're charming. It's a nice vague, flattering term that they can take however they please. "Are they going to grow up to be bankers like their father?"

The banker lifts the photograph and seems to be talking to it. "You know, Sam does have a natural aptitude for math… Why, just the other day he was helping my wife halve the recipe for bread—rations, you know—and he was doing fractions in his head…"

While the banker recounts the 'charming' anecdote of his son's amazing mathematical abilities, Madge leans farther onto his desk, again resting her head on her hand as she smiles and nods at the story. Her body is largely blocking the banker's view from the fact that her far foot is sliding open the bottom drawer of his desk. Just a few inches—enough for her to use her far hand to drop the transmitter into the bottom of the drawer, where with a surreptitious glance she confirms it will be hidden below all the carefully color-coded hanging folders. She reaches into her pocket, gently drops the device, closes the door, and focuses her attention on the banker again.

"He sounds so smart," Madge gushes when the story concludes, and moves back to her side of the desk. "Hopefully all this," she gestures outside, implying that she's talking about all the fighting and warfare, "will be over soon and we can get back to the important things in life." She has no idea what those important things will be in her life, since she no longer has a family, but that just gives her all the more reason to go all out in this project.

"I sure hope so, Miss," the banker agrees. He taps a few things into his computer and less than 10 minutes later, Madge walks away from the desk holding an account number and certificate. And more importantly, _not_ holding that transmitter.

Madge smoothly leaves the building, heart racing beneath her calm exterior, and walks back to the post office building. It takes everything she has not to run. She does burst dramatically into the room, though, startling Simon, who's engrossed in one of the ledgers Fiona gave them.

He looks up questioningly at her and she nods tightly. "Easily within range. I got it into a drawer near one of the computer terminals." She hands him the account information, which he swiftly types into the computer.

"It has to establish a connection," he says nervously, not taking his eyes off the computer.

After a few tense minutes, the screen starts to blink. Simon sits up a little straighter and Madge moves closer to the screen.

"It worked," Simon says in a disbelieving tone. With a series of keystrokes, he gets the screen to display several columns of numbers. "Unbelievable," he breathes. "I didn't think that tech actually could pull this off…" He pushes a small metal device into a port on the computer and a little light flashes.

He turns to look at Madge with a smile she's beginning to recognize as him succeeding at tricking someone. "We're going to get them where it hurts."

#

Over the next few days, they immerse themselves in analyzing the information from the accounts, mostly in front of the computer at the old post office, but Simon arranges to buy a printer from someone in town so they can print things out to keep analyzing late into the nights. There's nothing else to do, and having a project energizes both of them.

"I knew it," Simon mutters. He scoots to the edge of his bed so he can show the page to Madge. She's in her usual spot in the chair in his room and leans forward. "Look at this funds transfer on the 14th."

Madge scans the columns of numbers. "So?"

"The exact same amount that shows up three days later over here," Simon explains, grabbing another folder from a pile on the bed. "Being transferred to Metallurgy Incorporated. To their account with an access point in the Capitol."

Madge immediately paws through her notes. "But… that metallurgy company… they manufacture ammunition." She looks up at him and frowns. "So the Murrays are funding the war for the Capitol?"

"Not for long." Simon smugly pulls the relevant papers into a small pile. "We can put a freeze on it."

"How?"

"Well, you and I can't… but the technology exists."

"What does that mean? We steal the money from them?"

"It means they'll no longer have access to that money."

"So who does? It has to go somewhere."

"It's frozen. No one can use it, until the truth can be sorted out."

"When will that happen?"

Simon looks exasperated. "When will the war be over? Yeah, I'd like to know that, too, Madgelet. Get out of this backwater and get some real food…" He trails off with a glance at Madge, evidently aware that he's about one sentence away from one of her lectures on being grateful for the hospitality Patty is providing to them in this safe house. Instead he shifts and pulls out the notebook that lists all the companies registered in District 6 and hands it to Madge. "Double check in here and try to think if any other companies might have connections to this one. These links are usually more of a web. We can cross-reference the accounts if we find anything."

Madge takes the notebook and starts flipping through its pages. If she wanted the Capitol to win the war and wanted to secretly transfer money to them, how would she do it? She gets so immersed in imagining the illicit transactions that she barely notices the time passing.

She and Simon continue working, the TV on quietly in the background in case a rebel propo breaks into the broadcast. Madge has developed a finely tuned reaction to drop whatever she's doing when she hears the opening bars of anything that sounds like a propo. The rebel propos invariably cheer her, but the true enticement is the possibility of seeing a few seconds of Gale. He's apparently important in District 13 because he shows up in a lot of the propos, looking strong and determined, which she always knew he was and now other people seem to be realizing, too. The Capitol propos, on the other hand, have become even more disturbing ever since a second one featuring Peeta started airing. It's obvious he's being tortured, and Madge can barely breathe thinking about what poor, sweet Peeta is enduring. Both types of propos motivate her to stay awake with the print-outs when she's feeling tired.

Late that evening after Patty and most of the few remaining refugees have already retired for the night, a knock at the front door disrupts the quiet. Madge and Simon are still awake and pouring over the documents, so Madge gets up to answer the door. Looking through the peephole, she's shocked to find that the late-night visitor is none other than Fiona Shaw, rescuer and architect of both Madge and Simon's fates. Fiona appears as hostile and irritated as ever, but what Madge _sees_ is the possibility of a trip to District 13. She eagerly opens the door.

"Margaret Undersee," Fiona observes, her tone detached. "You're up and functioning." She steps into the house and pauses to take in Madge's appearance, making Madge acutely aware of the baggy, cast-off shirt she lives in these days and the pants that don't quite reach her ankles. Add to that her hastily chopped hair and she knows she looks like a disaster. Fiona, in contrast, is dressed in a tailored neon green dress suit and it's clear that being a rebel mastermind has not interfered with her manicure sessions.

"I'm feeling much better, thanks," Madge says to the unasked question, but Fiona ignores the slight and starts clicking in her high heels down the hallway toward Simon's room.

"I need to talk to you and Simon. He awake?"

Madge scurries behind Fiona, who reaches Simon's room before she gets a chance to respond. By the time she walks in, she can see from Simon's tense posture how pissed off he is that she didn't warn him about Fiona's unannounced appearance and that he's trying to figure out what insult he wants to hurl at her first.

"How are your legs?" Fiona asks by way of greeting. Madge can see her frowning at the crutches. "Can you walk unaided yet?"

"My _legs_ are itching to kick someone in the—"

"Soon," Madge interrupts. "He'll be able to walk unaided soon. The last time the doctor was here, he said just a few more weeks."

Fiona looks displeased to hear this news and pauses to open the black leather portfolio she's carrying. _Typical Capitol_, Madge thinks to herself, using something more expensive than a month's worth of food rations to carry around _paper_. Fiona sighs impatiently and rifles through some of the pages.

"Fiona," Madge cuts in before Fiona steers things in her own direction, "Can we go to District 13? We could be helpful there, I'm certain of it." She doesn't even bother appealing to the argument that would be most persuasive to other people—that practically every surviving District 12 inhabitant is in 13 and she'd like to reunite with them. Instead, she tries to speak Fiona's language: of what use Madge and Simon can be to the rebels.

Discussing a possible trip to 13 is evidently not the first item on Fiona's agenda because she shoots Madge an annoyed look. "We'll discuss your next move momentarily. First, Simon: the status of the banking resources here?"

"Compromised," he glowers. And then he adds with a self-satisfied grin, "And compromised right back."

Madge thinks she sees a faint flicker of approval from Fiona. "Yes?"

Simon explains how he and Madge were able to gain access to the bank's records and identify likely Capitol supporters. "There are more than you might expect," he says, handing Fiona the pile of papers he and Madge had collected that show which individuals and companies are possibly supporting the Capitol.

Fiona makes a hurrumphing sound as she accepts the papers. "Nothing surprises me these days." She flips through the pages and then slides them into her portfolio. "Continue your investigation until you're able to walk unaided," she instructs Simon, who looks mutinous at being told to do what Madge knows he was already planning to do. "And then I think we'll send you to District 3. Hostilities have formally ended there and we'll need these same types of investigations performed."

"What about 13?" Madge interrupts. "Shouldn't we join up with the rest—"

"No, you're needed elsewhere."

"Can we at least contact them? I have friends from 12 who were rescued and they probably think I'm dead—"

"Impossible. Communications with 13 are reserved only for the highest strategic priorities. Not _chats_ with _friends_." Fiona sounds disgusted that Madge even asked.

"What about family?" Simon asks. "My mother and brother in the Capitol also probably think I'm dead."

Fiona shakes her head. "No, too risky. And your value is even higher now that everyone in the central administration office believes you died."

She pauses as if debating whether to tell them something else and then finally says, "You're both extremely useful to us as deceased—we're giving you both Sensitive Status."

Simon looks impressed at whatever that means, but Madge is just confused. He notices her expression and explains. "One step below Classified Status." When Madge continues to stare back at him blankly he elaborates again. "No one can know about us."

"No one does know about us…"

"And to minimize risks, we're keeping it that way," Fiona says. "Simon knows too much about the central administration office for him not to be a high priority target if Capitol loyalists discover he's still alive."

"What about my friends in 13?" Madge says, trying again. "What if you just tell them I'm alive but not Simon? I don't want them to worry about me. And I'm using another name so it's not like anyone else would figure it out." Or care, she refrains from adding. Nearly everyone she knows is in 13 or this house.

Fiona sighs impatiently. "I can barely get sixty seconds of transmission time to update Command on issues of vital strategic importance. Your social life can wait until more widespread communication is possible."

"My friend in 13 has a duplicate set of Simon's identity papers," Madge blurts. "If he uses those papers, won't that jeopardize Simon?" There, if Simon's so valuable to Fiona, surely she'll get the word to 13 that Gale shouldn't use those papers, and then he'll ask why and learn she survived.

Fiona looks sharply at Simon. "Explain."

Simon sighs wearily. "We don't know for sure, but it's a possibility. You know the Mockingjay's cousin? Or boyfriend or best friend or bodyguard—whatever he is these days—the guy who was with her in the hospital propo? He may have a set of papers with the same name I'm using here."

Fiona looks even more pissed off than usual and shakes her head as she jots something on a page in her portfolio. "Simon, I'll have to get you a new set of papers to be safe."

Madge thinks Simon looks pleased he'll be able to leave the name Melvin behind, but she's still worried about Gale. "What if Gale uses the identity?"

Fiona purses her lips. "In light of his apparent importance to the rebellion as the Mockingjay's companion, I may be able to expedite a communication channel to warn Headquarters in case they're planning to use the papers."

"And tell him at the same time I'm still alive?" Madge adds hopefully, brightening slightly. "Katniss, too?"

Fiona makes another note in her portfolio. "I'll see what I can do."

Madge exhales in relief. It worked to appeal to Fiona's pragmatism in not wanting to risk someone so obviously important to Katniss, given Katniss' role as the symbol of the revolution. She's grateful Gale has that little bit of extra built-in protection to help him stay alive…

Simon adjusts himself into a sitting position in bed and says, "We'll need another transmitter when we go to 3." He's apparently thinking through the mission already. "Madge successfully planted one here and it worked well. Tell Dewey all we need is more of the same." He grins at Madge. "We can clean up the rest of these districts, too."

Fiona peers down her nose at Simon. "Margaret will not be joining you in District 3, Simon."

Madge is so stunned she can't speak. Of course they're going to continue to work together. Simon needs Madge to help him get around and she needs him because _he is the only person she has left in the world_.

"No," Simon rejects firmly. "We're a team. You'll screw everything up if you separate us."

"Simon's still teaching me how to look for the patterns," Madge adds. "And he's not _really_ well enough to cope on his own." She ignores Simon's scowl at that last comment, but she does think it's true. Anyone else would probably kill him rather than put up with his antics.

"Margaret has a more pressing task she needs to turn her attention to."

"_No_," Madge says automatically. _No way_ is she leaving Simon to go be Fiona's puppet somewhere. She doesn't care what they need her for. She knows she's being useful doing her work with Simon. "I'm sticking with Simon," she declares.

Fiona ignores Madge's defiance and continues speaking as though she hadn't been interrupted. "We need you to recruit your aunt and uncle to the cause."

Aunt and uncle? It hadn't occurred to her that she could ever find them—she doesn't even know which district they were living in when the war broke out. And then she starts to get angry—she has no idea what they look like, either. They could be horrible, hateful people for all she knows! Simon is all she has left now and she's not abandoning him.

"I don't even know them," she tells Fiona, angry defiance lining her words.

Fiona opens her portfolio and begins reading. "Uncle. Dusty Whistler. Civil engineer in District 2, employee of the Public Works Department. Intimately familiar with key infrastructure elements in the district." She glances up at Madge. "I take it you're aware that the preparations to take the Capitol hinge on our ability to control 2?"

Madge scowls at her feet. Yes, she's heard the other refugees talking about that and understands how important it could be to have an insider guiding the rebels through District 2's roads, bridges and utility connections…

Fiona continues talking. "Aunt. Perri Whistler. Anonymous publisher of an underground pamphlet series on the illegitimacy of the Snow Administration and the Hunger Games. Long-time sympathizer to rebel beliefs, but hiding behind the cloak of anonymity." Fiona looks up at Madge. "Do you want to take a guess about where, as a couple, their loyalties lie?"

"So recruit them yourselves," Madge shoots back. "They sound like they're already on our side. But they don't know me any more than I know them. The last time I saw them, I was four."

"They're skittish. Understandably, as the only living relatives of a mayor whose district and family were destroyed in one night. And they've been burned by the Snow Administration before… They keep to themselves and have been under close watch by Capitol operatives. So far all of our attempts to approach them have failed. The situation in District 2 is still extremely tense, with traitors being hung daily. But the appearance of their own niece would be indisputable proof…"

"What about this Sensitive Status stuff?" Madge asks. "Wouldn't I be breaking that to contact them?"

"We intend to grant them Sensitive Status as well for the types of tasks we need them for."

Madge crosses her arms, not warming to this plan at all and bolstered by Simon's hostility to it, too. Silence fills the room and Madge hopes Fiona is starting to feel uncomfortable.

Fiona speaks after a few moments, still brisk and business-like. "How about this, Margaret? In light of your relationship with Simon… as an effective team… I'll have you join him again once you've successfully completed your mission to recruit your relatives. You should be able to move on to 3 at the same time Simon is well enough to leave 6."

"He needs me here now," Madge counters. "We're still working on—"

"It's fine, Madge," Simon breaks in, sounding defeated. "Your uncle is important to have on our side and I have all the print-outs I need to keep looking for patterns. We can meet up again in 3."

"Great," Fiona says in her same flat tone that she uses for everything. "Margaret, we leave tomorrow morning at 0700."

"That's too soon!" Madge hears herself getting shrill. "Simon and I are still working, I can't leave Patty, I have to pack—"

Fiona cuts her off. "There are no other transportation options. You'll accompany me by hovercraft to Rebel Base West, where you can take a transport into District 2. The officers at Rebel Base West will have further instructions for you, including how to successfully extract your relatives."

Madge can't believe what she's hearing—classic Fiona utilitarianism disregarding all human emotions—and looks at Simon for support.

"She'll be there," Simon tells Fiona firmly. That seems to be all she needs because she promptly turns around and exits the room, leaving Madge speechless and struggling with feelings of betrayal.

"Sit," Simon tells her, using one of his crutches to push her chair towards her.

Still scowling, Madge reluctantly sits on the very edge of the chair, not committed to continued conversation with this traitor.

"She's a Wicked Witch, but she's usually right about things," Simon summarizes reluctantly. "Strategically, securing District 2 is the next highest priority. And Madge, we really could win this thing." He scoots forward, his eyes bright. "Quickly, without drawing out the fighting unnecessarily."

Madge crosses her arms and focuses on a scattered pile of papers on the bed near Simon's knees. The pressure of a crying attack is starting to build in her chest. She lost her parents, Gale, Katniss, and now she's having to leave Patty and Simon, too?

"You can see your aunt and uncle," Simon adds quietly. "Madge, you still have family…"

That pushes her over the edge into the land of tears and she covers her face with her hands as the sobs start to shake her body. If she can even find them, seeing her aunt and uncle will make it seem real that her parents really have died, and is it so strange that she doesn't want to face that?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everybody reading and reviewing! And to kaykay454 since I couldn't respond to you directly, thank you so much for your long review. It was awesome. Thanks! :)


	5. Not Anymore

**Chapter 5: Not Anymore**

Gale's work phone rings and he glances at the clock before picking up. Probably her; she always calls at this time of day.

"Hello, dear. You doing all right?"

"Yes, fine." His standard answer.

"You seemed especially testy at that meeting yesterday." His mother never misses any of his official appearances. He suspects she's probably equally aware of the unofficial coverage of his life, but thankfully limits herself to occasional reminders about being sure he's behaving in a way that 'reflects well' on the Hawthorne name and District 12.

He isn't sure how to respond to her observation—he's always testy lately—so he changes the subject. "Is anything wrong? Is Vick still sick?" Last time he'd talked to her, Vick had picked up some kind of virus. Gale blames the stale re-circulating air in 13.

"He's recovering. Gale, how long are you going to be assigned to that committee?"

"I don't know. Maybe they'll fire me."

"_Gale._" He hears the scolding in her tone and actually shares her annoyance with him. His pessimism really is tiresome, which is why he doesn't like inflicting it on others and rarely calls her back. "I think it would be good for us to visit," she continues. "Didn't you say civilian travel would be allowed soon?"

"Yeah," he says uneasily. Truthfully, he has mixed feelings about them visiting; even though he misses them, they also make him feel guilty because Katniss' family has been so destroyed and his survived.

"Well, try to restrain your enthusiasm, dear. We're going to visit 12 first, anyway. Probably in the next few weeks."

He sits up at his desk straighter, alarmed. "It's not cleared yet." Code for: there are still bodies scattered throughout the entire district.

"Your friend Thom said the announcement would be soon." Trust his mom to have the latest District 12 gossip, even from 13.

"You're not thinking of moving there, are you?" Obviously they won't stay in 13 forever—they're not moles—he just hadn't thought about where else they might go. He doesn't know where he'll go. Anywhere other than 12.

"Rory wants to," his mother says, "but I worry we'll never get a full night's sleep." They didn't when they first moved to 13—every single one of them suffered from nightmares of the night 12 was bombed. "Vick panics around open flames and Posy still talks about seeing that little boy under the collapsed building..." Gale cringes at the memory of Posy's hysterical shrieking. He wishes his mother didn't drag everything up from the murky depths so often.

"Well, maybe we'll like District 2," she concludes brightly.

"Don't move here for me," Gale warns. "I'm still enlisted. They could send me anywhere next."

His mother exhales one of her expertly practiced long-suffering sighs. "Gale, believe me, I'm aware. You remind me endlessly."

Rhoda starts waving at him from the doorway, reminding him it's time for the meeting to start, so he quickly gets off the phone and takes his seat in the hall. The sub-committees are reporting their progress to the full group, and Gale listens with interest as Madge's aunt describes the education committee's proposals for revising the curriculum and textbooks. He knows she's some kind of academic, and she's clearly still angry about the Capitol's methods, judging by the ferocity of her rant about the Capitol's reliance on the schools to 'indoctrinate fear and passivity into the population.' To counteract those effects, she apparently started an underground printing press.

When the meeting adjourns, Gale is surprised to see Madge's aunt approaching him. Maybe she realized that there's no need for hostility if they have to work together—they're both on the ethics and justice sub-committee, although it hasn't met yet.

"Lieutenant," she says, leveling her intense gaze at him and leaving him a little nervous, like she can see that he's just a guy from the Seam or that he pushed so many ruthless ideas on other people during the war.

"Nice speech," he says, and then before he knows what's possessed him, he's running his mouth. "Madge's dad had a stash of illegal political articles. She found them in a closet in her house and used to make me read them. She said he used to write, too."

"Cliff used to be quite the idealist," her aunt says wistfully. "I'm glad Madge found whatever she did." She stands up straighter, if that's possible. "My husband and I noticed a photograph was missing from one of the boxes. Those photos at the mansion were my mother's and I had a duplicate set. The most recent photo of Madge?"

Gale wants to disappear. Should he confess or play dumb? One glance at Madge's aunt confirms that she'd see through any lies so he confesses, despite knowing it makes him seem like a weepy, creepy stalker.

"I'm having a copy made, I was going to return it. I just… don't have anything else." What a perfect way to kick off working with her on the _ethics and justice _sub-committee: by stealing a family treasure.

"I understand," she says, and he's relieved not to hear any accusation in her tone. "I hadn't realized how important she was to you. If you'd like to look through the other photos or make other copies, you're more than welcome."

"I'd like that," he says quickly. She invites him over on Saturday afternoon and he eagerly agrees.

#

Gale spends Saturday morning climbing with Milo at the old quarry, and then leaves early for the 45-minute drive to the Whistlers' house since it's sunny outside and the views of the mountains from the roads are theoretically invigorating. It's something the army doctor had suggested back before Gale ditched him—acting like he cares about things he used to, even if he doesn't anymore.

He easily finds the Whistlers' modest little house in Hyland Village—Madge's aunt gave him decent directions so he wouldn't get lost—and hears a dog barking ferociously as he approaches the door. The door opens before he can knock, and a man with a light brown beard and smile wrinkles around his eyes greets Gale with a hearty handshake.

"Dusty Whistler, pleased to meet you, come in, come in. Zipper, DOWN." A boisterous blur of black and white fur is leaping onto Gale's legs, only reaching mid-thigh but not for lack of effort. Gale jumps back from the attack, but Dusty seems embarrassed rather than concerned about the dangers posed by the animal, and pulls it by the collar away from Gale with one hand while holding the door to the house open with the other.

Eyeing the dog warily in case it escapes and attacks him again, Gale enters the house and starts his usual scan of new surroundings to assess other potential threats. His assessment stalls when he spots a Madge-like person standing in the middle of the living room.

Frozen, he tries to figure out if he's hallucinating. He went through a phase when he first moved to this district of seeing her everywhere, and it's resurged lately after discovering those photographs. Maybe her aunt and uncle have a daughter Madge's age who looks like her… But this girl looks an awful lot like Madge, only with shorter hair…

In the few seconds of his bewildered staring, the Madge-like person hurls herself at him and hugs him so tightly he can barely breathe. But that could also be because he's choking from the noises gurgling through his chest out his throat—a mix of crying and laughing and gasping for air and grasping for comprehension at this impossibility. Aside from her own extreme reaction that mirrors his, holding her again is what really confirms that the Madge-like person is indeed _his_ Madge: her familiar scent and body are the best identification he could ask for. He feels her shake as her sobbing becomes more pronounced and immediately murmurs into her hair that everything will be all right. He normally loathes platitudes, but it doesn't feel untrue: for the first time in so, so long he does believe everything will actually turn out well.

He doesn't know how long they stay glued to one another in that entryway, but eventually he can breathe somewhat normally again and Madge starts sniffling, which he knows from experience means she's done with the worst of the crying. He feels absolutely no inclination to move, though, and inhales deeply to remind himself it's really her. She burrows deeper into his chest and rearranges her arms so she's hugging him inside his jacket. He's so content he doesn't want to disrupt the moment with words to find out how she didn't actually die and where she's been for the entire war; he'd be just fine passing the rest of his days hugging her in this hallway. He runs his hands gently along her back and notices for the first time that she feels skinnier, which he hopes isn't an indicator of having endured too much hardship during the war.

A soft snorting noise and a strange tickling near his knee finally distract him from his Madge daze. Looking down, he sees the attack dog sniffing his shins interestedly.

"You're new to him," Madge explains, also peering down at the creature. "He's checking you out." The dog gets excited at hearing Madge's voice and promptly jumps onto her legs. "DOWN, Zipper! Sit!" The beast reluctantly rests his rump—just barely—on the floor, but keeps wagging his tail so energetically it's like he's being tortured into obeying. Gale realizes with horror that this dog is the Whistlers' _pet_.

"Madge," Dusty calls hesitantly from the end of the hallway, where he's standing on the edge of the carpet runner as though he doesn't want to intrude. "Perri has the form in the kitchen. Whenever you're ready."

Madge looks up at Gale and he's reminded of how much bluer her eyes always seemed after she'd been crying. "There's a form you need to sign," she says, pulling him by the hand down the short hallway from the front door to the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen is modest—only slightly larger than his family's kitchen back in 12. Dusty and Perri are sitting at a small table with one of the boxes from the mansion, sorting its contents into piles.

"Ah, Lieutenant Hawthorne," Perri says, smiling authentically at him for the first time ever and rising to shake his hand. "I'm glad you could make it." She gestures for Madge and Gale to take two empty chairs at the table and then shifts some of the paper piles out of the way and places an official looking legal document in front of Gale. "Sorry I couldn't tell you anything more until you got here. Madge?"

Madge twists to look at Gale and he's distracted from the beginnings of irritation with her aunt for lying to him and tricking him as he takes in how Madge's formerly long, wavy hair is now barely chin length. Her face is also a little leaner—he hadn't been imagining that she's probably gone through some type of deprivation during the war. He squeezes her hand, not liking the idea of her having to go without something for the first time in her life.

"I feel stupid asking this since I know the answer," Madge says, "but formally I have to ask you to agree to a vow of confidentiality." She seems embarrassed and she's right, obviously he'll agree to whatever confidentiality is necessary.

"Of course. Are you with Covert Intelligence?" They tended to be moles in the Capitol during the war and only the highest ranking rebel leaders knew how to contact them. Several had assisted with the rescue of Peeta, Annie, and Johanna, though Gale's awareness of the agents was limited to hearing second and third hand accounts that 'intelligence indicates…'

Perri speaks up. "Before she says anything else, I need you to take the oath and formalize it by signing this document." She pulls out a complicated stamping device. "Once you've been sworn, Madge can tell you where she's been. To whatever degree she feels appropriate in light of her own mission and duties." Perri shoots one of her fierce looks at Madge, who nods solemnly.

"I know my responsibilities. I trust Gale."

"Gale, are you prepared to take the oath? You understand nothing Madge tells you can be leaked to the press? Even inadvertently in situations when your… inhibitions might be lowered?"

Gale feels his previous irritation with Madge's aunt return. "Of course," he says coldly. If her main impression of him has been coming from the tabloid programs, she probably thinks he's a total lush. He wonders what Madge thinks about all the clips…

Perri hands the form to him, and when he finishes reading it she administers the oath and has him sign. She uses the complicated stamp on it and then explains that he can be prosecuted if he violates the confidentiality clause, including execution as a traitor. From her warning, he suspects she'd be the first to turn him in.

Dusty, who's been watching the proceedings quietly, stands up. "Madge, Perri and I are going to take Zipper for a walk. You two probably have a lot of catching up to do."

"Thanks," she says, smiling sweetly as her aunt and uncle exit before turning to look at Gale again. He notices that she has a cute little spattering of freckles across her nose, which she'd started to get at home last spring after she started spending so much time gardening outside to get away from the surveillance in her house. She smiles up at him and he wonders if it's too soon to kiss her…

Of course it is. He still doesn't know how she didn't die! Or if she even _wants_ to kiss him anymore. He could just be an old friend she wants to reconnect with. Now that 12 no longer exists, its former citizens have an automatic bond—he'd noticed it in 13, how people who didn't know or like each other back in 12 put all of that aside.

Madge stands to put on the tea kettle. Gale watches her glide through the kitchen, mesmerized at the impossibility of her turning up, whole and healthy and part of the war effort. She seems as gentle as ever, even preparing tea with as much care as she used to put into her garden back home… Well, except when she was on one of her vicious weeding streaks.

"I'm based in the Capitol right now," Madge says as she scoops tea leaves into the strainer. "I just received clearance to be able to come visit Perri and Dusty on weekends since travel is loosening up, as long as it doesn't interfere with my assignments."

"Madge," he breaks in. "_What happened to you?_ I saw your house burning, I dug through the debris, I found Simon's body…" Gale has to close his eyes, as though that could block the memories of that night.

"You went back to find me?" she asks unsteadily, watching him from across the kitchen.

"Of course!"

"I don't know exactly what happened," she says quietly, turning back to stare at the tea cups. "My parents… didn't make it." He hears her voice catch for a moment, but then she regains her composure and describes how she and Simon were trying to get out of the district when a bomb knocked them out and that they woke up later in a safe house in District 6.

"So Simon actually was a rebel that whole time?" Gale feels his old Simon irritation surge back, skipping past the part where he's supposed to be happy that Simon survived. "He was just screwing with us?"

"No," Madge clarifies, insisting that Simon didn't know anything more about the rebellion than he'd told them. "Someone he worked with was trying to recruit my parents to the rebel network and with all that monitoring, she figured out Simon was trying to help me and realized he wasn't loyal to the Capitol, either. When the bombing started, she tried to get all of us out but my parents were already… She only got me and Simon."

Madge goes on to describe how she and Simon had to activate the fake identities Simon had made for Gale and Madge, and how they had no way to contact anyone in other districts other than through their handler, who apparently dropped in on them only sporadically and wasn't very forthcoming with information.

"She told us she got word to 13 to stop you from using those same identification papers and that I was still alive, but—"

"No one told me," Gale interrupts, so angry he has to stand up and start pacing the kitchen. "_No one_ told me anything about you." The horror of someone withholding information so vital to him physically hurts, and makes him want to hurt whoever was responsible. He looks at Madge—she has to know that he had no idea she was alive.

Madge stops his pacing by placing both her hands on his arms. "I know you didn't know. I figured it out." She gently steers him back to the table and places a cup of tea in front of him.

"When were they supposed to tell me?" He demands, not willing to calm down yet. "Who?" He fully intends to track down these people and rip their guts out.

"I don't know, it was confusing. It was around the time they made me leave District 6, which was before the Capitol bombed 13. I thought you died again." She looks at him as though she's trying to reassure herself that he's alive and sitting here in her aunt and uncle's kitchen, and Gale realizes that that probably wasn't the only time she thought he'd died...

"There was a propo of you and Katniss in 12 where it seemed like you thought I was dead because you went to our cemetery shed, but I didn't know when it had been filmed. It aired after the Capitol bombed 13 and I didn't hear until a couple of weeks later that they'd supposedly told you…"

Gale rests his head in his hands on the table and closes his eyes. "I had to turn those papers over to Command. They might have planned to use them and not told me about it… And then decided not to use them, and not told me about that either." The mission to save Peeta had temporarily involved those papers and about twenty other ever-changing elements that he filtered out of his brain in favor of focusing only on the final plan. That timing fits with what Madge is saying… He exhales slowly, this most recent betrayal by their own side triggering his memories of the other, more devastating betrayals that constantly threaten to overwhelm him (_his bomb, always his bomb_).

Madge slides next to him so she can perch on the edge of his chair and gently massages his neck muscles with one of her hands, which feels ridiculously good and distracts him from the knot in his ribcage. "The message could have gone through countless people and been mangled in countless ways," she says sadly. "I'm sure it was a low priority, and at least the part about the papers got through… Or someone lied. We'll never know."

She seems lost in thought, but keeps massaging his neck, which takes some of the sting out of this most recent betrayal. "Anyway, they sent me here so I could recruit Dusty and Perri. They'd been ID'd as a valuable resources for the attack on 2. Actually, I think it's why the rebels saved me from 12." She pauses and sounds a little bitter. "Had to be useful somehow, right?"

"When were you here?" He asks sharply.

"When 13 was being bombed and a little afterward. Before you and Katniss," she adds, apparently guessing what he was wondering. "Recruiting them didn't take long. I basically turned up with the plan the officers had come up with to get them out without the Capitol noticing and we all left for Rebel Base West. Well, it was more complicated than that…"

Gale opens his eyes and turns to look at her, aware that she's glossing over details she suspects might alarm him, but Madge just smiles blandly, moves her hand from his neck to his knee, pats him comfortingly, and keeps talking. "We're all fine, right? Dusty and Perri had to stay at the base, but I was assigned to a money-tracking group. A lot of Snow's people saw the rebellion coming and tried to hide assets. We would go to the districts where the fighting had ended and track down the money so they couldn't keep funding the war. I got to be pretty good at figuring out their tricks."

Gale smirks, but he's proud: she was able to put her skills for sneakiness to a good purpose. He's also relieved she stayed out of direct fighting, feeling retroactively protective of her.

"Everything's mostly sorted out now," Madge continues, moving back to her own chair and taking a sip from her mug, "except in the Capitol, so I'm based there."

Gale mulls her story for a few moments. "So is that why you haven't made contact until now? Because of being in Covert Intelligence?"

Madge twists the mug in her hands and doesn't look at him. "Sort of. We got stuck in District 7 when the war ended. I'm sure you remember how chaotic it was. Communications and travel were all screwed up, nobody knew who was in charge or what was happening… Then we heard talk of the Hunger Games starting up again using the children of those in power and it seemed like I might be vulnerable if I started using my real name again…"

Gale feels a swell of appreciation for Katniss, once again reminding him of how much everybody in the country owes her for stopping that idea cold with a well-placed arrow. Haymitch had explained during the preparations for Katniss' trial about the victors voting, and the story had confirmed his growing suspicions that the rebels had not been everything he'd assumed.

"Then, after the election we were able to get to the Capitol—"

"Who's we?"

"Simon," Madge says as though she thought that was obvious. "We had to set up a formal office for our financial tracking group, and Simon's brother was facing trial for his role in the Snow Administration so Simon needed to be there for that."

Gale's hearing an awful lot of Simon-related 'we' for his taste. "And Simon wasn't facing a trial? He worked for Snow, too."

Madge glares at him with something resembling actual anger. "He spent the entire war working for the rebels!"

Gale keeps his mouth closed, aware that he's no saint either, and decides that he had best tread carefully on the Simon issue. Besides, people like Plutarch Heavensbee—formerly a Gamemaker, now Chief Blowhard—illustrate how working for the rebels could give people with Capitol ties a clean slate.

"I had to downgrade my security classification to come here this weekend," Madge says, moving on with her story but watching Gale suspiciously as though he might have another outburst of Simon hostility. "This is the first time I've seen Dusty and Perri since we were all at Rebel Base West together. I don't know them very well, although they've been very welcoming."

She sounds sad, but then she looks up and smiles shyly. "Perri told me over the phone about talking to you at my grandma's house. She wasn't sure what to make of you."

"I don't think she likes me," Gale observes sullenly.

Madge grins. "She'll come around. You did steal from her."

Gale thanks his genetics for not being predisposed to blushing, but he does focus on the table to avoid eye contact with Madge. So Perri told her he took the photograph. "I borrowed," he corrects, although technically he hasn't returned it yet. But he's glad to have heard Madge's reference to the future—Perri coming around implies that he'll be seeing Madge again.

Madge lets him off the hook and stands up. "Do you want to see the house?" She leads him through the tiny living room and dining room, sparsely decorated with pictures of family members—the Undersees and people who must be related to Dusty. The house has a cozy feeling, and makes him miss his family even more acutely. But he spends most of his energy studying Madge, trying to memorize everything about her in case he's imagining all this. She looks older than in the photo he still hasn't returned, which makes sense… She's coming up on 19 now, and has lived through losing her parents, her district, and who knows what during the war, since she was clearly editing her account.

As she's showing him the garage where Dusty works on side projects, Gale hears the telltale frantic paw scramblings of Zipper in the front entryway, followed seconds later by the dog bounding into the garage and reuniting with Madge as though it's been decades since their separation instead of an hour. Gale can relate to the sentiment.

#

Dusty and Perri invite Gale to stay for dinner, and he finds it's refreshing to spend time with people other than soldiers and politicians. Normally he dreads answering questions about the war or Katniss, but he doesn't mind when Madge or her aunt and uncle ask. They're mostly curious for him to fill in the details around what they've learned from the propos, his testimony at Katniss' trial, and whatever he's said publicly since the war ended.

He likes hearing about their lives, too. Dusty doesn't seem to be naturally very talkative, which Gale appreciates, but once he warms up the stories start pouring out, and the details of designing the roads, bridges, and even sewers of District 2 become entertaining. Gale tells them about his family and how he doesn't think his mom is going to last in 13 much longer.

"Is she going back to 12?" Madge asks, disbelief in her voice.

"Maybe." And Gale's going to need to talk to her about that particular topic again; how can they move somewhere he'll never visit? He looks up at Madge in alarm. "Are you?"

"It hadn't occurred to me." She sounds mystified at the idea. "I'm still officially dead, so I can't do much of anything permanent. And I'm in the middle of something at work…" Clamping her mouth shut quickly and glancing briefly at Perri, she adds, "I can't believe Katniss went back."

Gale grimaces. "She didn't have much of a choice."

"I followed the trial closely," Perri says, setting her knife down to gaze at Gale. "There was no doubt in my mind she was a very disturbed girl. What that child went through…"

Staring at his potato, Gale thinks not for the first time about how he triggered the final breaking point in Katniss' coping abilities. With time and medication and enough supply closets to hide in, he's sure she could have found the will to keep living after the war. But losing Prim pushed her into a despair spiral that he can only hope time and Peeta Mellark will be able to counteract.

"How's Peeta?" Madge asks. "I heard he moved home, too."

Gale's grateful she changed the subject, although Peeta's not much of an improvement. "Getting better," he says vaguely, unsure if they know about the hijacking or not. The leaders in 13 tried to keep it under wraps. "I don't talk to them, but Greasy Sae—did you know her? She traded at the Hob—says they're doing all right. You should talk to them, Madge," he urges. Hearing she's back from the dead could only help. "If they sign a confidentiality agreement like I did, can you tell them?"

"They won't need to sign anything if I don't tell them I'm with Covert Intelligence," Madge explains. "Only you three know that. I have a cover story about working in the Department of Economic Analysis. It sounds so boring nobody ever asks for more details."

"So you wouldn't tell them the whole story," Gale says bluntly. "You'd lie."

Madge looks down at her plate and pushes some of her food around with her fork. "I'd be vague. I was unconscious during the rescue. And Katniss and Peeta were so important, and there was so much chaos and no communications during and after the war, I couldn't make contact until now."

It sounds like what she'd told him, which could mean it's true or that it's the same story she's telling everyone. But he did sign that confidentiality form and takes that as a sign that she considers him in a different category than other people. He glances at Perri and remembers how convincingly she'd lied about not knowing Madge was alive; apparently ease with deception is an Undersee family trait he's going to have to keep an eye on.

"Gale," Dusty says, apparently sensing the mood of the table taking a downturn, "Madge told us you like the outdoors. Have you been to the recreational area in the northwest quadrant? There aren't any marked trails, but from what Madge says, you probably don't need trails."

"I haven't been out there yet," Gale admits, pleased to hear Madge has been talking about him in ways that hopefully counteract his public image.

"Maybe we could go together," Madge says. "There's a chance I'll be back next weekend. I can't control my schedule, but right now it's clear." She smiles at him in that eager way that used to mean she figured out something devious she wanted to share with him, and now apparently means that she's looking forward to spending more time with him. Just because. He loves that smile and feels an unfamiliar sensation in his cheek muscles as he realizes he's smiling, too.

"Make sure you take Zipper if you go," Perri advises. "He needs the exercise." Zipper hears his name and immediately skids over to Perri's feet and wags his tail expectantly. Gale can't tell if the dog is more excited about the prospect of food or someone playing with him. What a freak—obviously food should win out.

They spend the rest of dinner talking about the forested areas in between District 2's villages. Dusty is also a native of 2, although from a different village than Madge's family, so he and Perri know all the best areas to explore and describe some of the nearby lakes, and Gale realizes he's starting to look forward to doing something outside other than rock climbing.

After dinner, Dusty and Perri start yawning, which he takes as a sign that he should head home. It's hard to think of ending this wonderful day, though, and Madge seems similarly reluctant to let him go. She suggests they take Zipper on a walk and soon they're trailing the boisterous furball down the darkened street, watching him zigzag and sniff every possible flower and bush they pass, his flopped-over triangle ears occasionally perking up at the sound of Madge's voice. Gale can't get enough of her voice, either, and listens happily to her describe what the ocean sounds like in District 4. He remembers similar speeches from Annie and Finnick and feels a flicker of interest in visiting during the upcoming information gathering sessions the Reconstruction Committee members will be conducting in the districts. If he volunteers for some of the other districts maybe he can avoid going to 12…

"Gale?" He realizes he'd gotten lost in his thoughts and missed what Madge was saying. "We should turn around now. We're at the edge of the village. Look, you can see where the fence used to be."

The fence around District 2 had been one of the longest, and Gale squints into the distance where the old support posts are visible. "You know, they're revising the political boundaries as part of the restructuring. Giving away the land outside the districts to citizens."

"How are they doing it?"

"That hasn't been worked out yet," Gale says wearily, aware that he's facing weeks worth of debates on that very topic. He'd be happy to forget about his job on this amazing day, but Madge seems interested and keeps asking him questions, so he lets himself vent about some of the more frustrating people he works with. If she's in Covert Intelligence, she's obviously not going to go running off to the media and leave him waking up some morning to the headline: _Hawthorne Hates His Job_. Not that that would be much of a scoop.

When they get back to the Whistlers' house, they stop in front of Gale's car and he suspects Madge is trying to postpone his departure just as much as he is. She's twisting Zipper's leash around her hand nervously as she rambles about something; he's not listening because he's strategizing how he could kiss her. But before he can find the right moment to sweep her off her feet, Zipper beats him to it. Literally: the horrible animal bolts toward a row of bushes while Madge is still tangled up in the leash, causing her to fall onto the Whistlers' grassy lawn with a loud "oomph."

Gale crouches to extract her from the leash and then yanks the stupid dog back toward them. Zipper promptly forgets about whatever he was chasing and bounds back to where Madge is crumpled on the lawn. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and winces slightly as she puts her weight on the hand that was holding the leash.

"OK?" He asks softly.

She nods and he pulls her hand into the beam from the streetlight. A mean-looking burn mars her otherwise soft palm, but no skin has been broken. He's still pissed at the damn dog for doing this to her, though, and scowls at the little doofus.

"It's not his fault," Madge says. "We just need to train him. He's still sort of a puppy. They found him in the abandoned quarry…"

Gale refuses to feel sympathy for a dog. He used to eat dogs. Wild dogs. And while Zipper isn't wild in the wilderness sense, he's wild in the 'someone needs to restrain this beast' sense. But Gale isn't about to start squabbling with Madge about the dog when she's injured. "First aid kit?"

"I think there's one in the kitchen." They walk back into the house, Zipper trailing them happily, and once inside Madge releases him. He follows them into the kitchen, noisily laps up some water from his bowl, and then disappears.

_Good riddance_, Gale thinks while he searches for the first aid kit and Madge runs her hand under cold water and pats it dry on a towel. Gale wordlessly pulls her hand closer and gently rubs burn cream into the reddened skin and quickly secures the bandage over her palm. Rope burns were common in the mines, though bandaging other miners was a lot less interesting than helping Madge.

"It'll hurt for a few days, but it's not too bad," he says, trying to keep his voice down since Dusty and Perri are probably sleeping.

"Thanks," she whispers, holding up her other hand to compare the two side by side. "Luckily I'm mostly using computers at work."

Thank goodness she doesn't seem to have suffered any serious injuries during the war. Although, he doesn't know anyone who made it out of 12 that night without at least minor burns or smoke inhalation, which reminds him that whatever Madge endured that night or during the war is his fault—if he'd gotten her out with his family, she'd have been safe in 13 this whole time like them.

"Madge, I shouldn't have let you run off to check on the electricity back home. I'm so sorry—"

She cuts him off by placing a finger against his lips. "No. Don't ever think that." She slowly lowers her hand, tracing it down his chin and pausing at his neck. Stepping even closer, she looks up at him and he feels her gently using both hands to pull up on the leather cord dangling around his neck. She doesn't break eye contact to look at the charm she's exposing and he realizes she must know what it is… Seconds later she's clutching the key, the small, useless little key to the cemetery shed where they used to meet in District 12.

"I saw it," she whispers, close enough now that he can feel her entire body aligned against his. "In the propo when you went to our shed. You turned our key into a keepsake."

He feels as exposed as an open wound, but in a good way like the wound is finally being treated. He can't remember what he said in that propo, but the most memorable thing was probably the fact that he went to the shed at all, which was _their_ place: a safe haven within District 12 where the two of them were rebel plotters, not mayor's daughter and miner.

"It was all I had," he says slowly.

She doesn't need to say "not anymore" because they're both thinking it, and when she puts the slightest amount of pressure on the key necklace to pull him closer, he kisses her before she'd have been able to get the words out anyway. He isn't used to being flooded by good memories, but that's exactly what happens as he starts to recall in detail how she always made him feel.

When Madge pulls her head back a few inches, he opens his eyes and sees her looking at him with that same smile he's seen so many times in his memories. And that's when it hits him that this is now, not the past, and she's here with him in this kitchen smiling at him like that… She nestles against his chest and lets him tug her tightly into the protective cocoon of his arms, a cocoon he never should have let her leave.

As he holds her, he thinks about how acutely he doesn't want to go back to his too-large, too-ugly, too-lonely apartment and even lonelier bed. So when Madge tentatively starts to kiss him again, he doesn't hold back—she was dead and now she isn't and losing himself in her is all he wants from life in this moment. She responds with some kind of wonderful noise that makes him hate with new intensity all the unnecessary layers separating them and he tries to use his few functioning brain cells to calculate if they'd have to stop kissing to get to his car and then to his apartment…

That's all he thinks about, that is, until he becomes aware of the _criminally annoying_ sound a throat being cleared behind him in that 'I'm consciously interrupting' way.

Madge pulls away first and immediately turns red. Gale swivels and confirms his suspicion: Perri is watching them with a disapproving expression, standing with her arms crossed in the doorway to the kitchen. He hears the soft jingling of dog tags and sees that Zipper has joined her, looking like he's ready for whatever new game the humans are playing in the middle of the night.

"Gale was leaving," Madge says weakly, "but I got hurt and he was helping…" She holds up her bandaged hand as evidence.

"Yes, Gale is quite… helpful," Perri says.

Gale turns back to the counter and starts putting the contents of the first aid kit back into the container. Nothing he could say would make this situation less awkward so why bother?

He hears Perri start to talk. "We have an early morning tomorrow, Madge, if you want to see the house before you catch the train back."

"Right. I do." She pauses and then asks, "Can Gale come, too?"

"Gale's seen the house already," Perri says, and he realizes they must be talking about Madge's grandparents' mansion. Site of Gale making a fool out of himself in front of Madge's aunt for the first time and then committing the petty theft that triggered Perri to tell Madge about him. Moral of the story being that crime pays? It did in 12. Perri adds, "But yes, of course he's welcome."

He finishes putting the first aid kit back together and hands it to Madge, feeling decidedly unwelcome, but it's up to her.

"Want to come with us to visit my grandparents' house?"

"Sure." He looks over at Perri. "I'll try not to steal anything this time."

Her stony expression conveys how unimpressed she is with his joke. "We'll meet you there at 9 a.m."

"Great." Madge beams and then tells Perri she's going to walk Gale to his car and will be back in a minute. He takes that to mean there will be no encore of the kitchen activities and walks quietly outside with Madge. The wrongness of having to leave her after getting her back again weighs on him, but she distracts him with a kiss and before he realizes what's happened, she's maneuvered him into his car by himself.

"See you tomorrow, Gale," she says before walking back to her aunt and uncle's house. He's left in awe that he _will_ actually see her again, and not in the form of a dream or a hallucination.

#

He drives home in a daze of disbelief and happiness, and when he walks into his apartment, he picks up the phone to call his mom before he remembers it's the dead middle of the night in District 13, as opposed to just very late in District 2. The phone in 13 is in a public corridor anyway.

So he sits down at his kitchen table and thinks about Madge, too worked up to go to sleep. _She's alive. Healthy. And appears to feel about him the way he feels about her._ He can't wait to see her again. There's tomorrow, when he's being included in a family excursion, and then the following weekend when they can explore the recreation area together. He's so elated, he doesn't even think he'll be anything more than mildly irritated if the stupid dog comes along.

He wonders if Madge has proper hiking gear. Probably not, judging by the stylish clothes and flimsy shoes she was wearing. He pulls out one of his many gear catalogs—Milo's been trying to outfit him—and flips to the hiking section to pick out the items Madge will need. He starts filling out an order form—he'll just need her to tell him her shoe and clothing sizes tomorrow—and as long as he gets the order to the store on Monday, she should have all the gear by Friday.

He tallies up the total cost on the order form and blinks in confusion. The number can't be right. He has all the same gear and hadn't noticed it costing that much… The number is much more than what he made as a miner over an entire year. For some boots, a pack, and a few other accessories? He checks his math and confirms that the number is correct.

_Disgusting._ He shoves the catalogs and order form off the table so forcefully they fly into the wall with a loud slap. How much money has he spent since moving to this district? He looks around his crappy apartment, the rent of which is paid for by his army housing allowance. The furniture and kitchen things were here when he moved in. He usually wears his dress uniform to Committee meetings—they're big on formality—and has only bought a few civilian clothes. So, his clothes and his climbing and hiking gear are what he's spent money on in the past two months and it's far beyond what his family of five used to live on in 12. He just hadn't realized it because he bought it all piecemeal and because he wires a percentage from each paycheck to his mother...

He puts his head in his hands, confused at this knowledge. He knows he's a terrible, sorry excuse for a person—and yet here he is with a job requiring him to sit around all day like a Capitol fat cat, and pays him enough to squander obscene amounts of money on activities he does purely to distract himself from his own awfulness. Without even realizing it! He not only thinks like a Gamemaker, he's _become_ a Capitol dirt bag himself. He consciously devised battle strategies that would kill civilians, he's the reason Katniss doesn't have a sister anymore—and now he gets _Madge_, too?

It's impossible. There is not a cell in his body that deserves the riches being showered on him. He especially doesn't deserve Madge, doesn't in any way deserve to feel as good as she makes him feel. Nausea rolls over him as he thinks about how horrified Madge would be if she truly understood how poisonous he is, and how she'd been ignorantly kissing such rottenness. Katniss had the right idea in wanting absolutely nothing to do with him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This chapter was longer than usual because I was merging the timelines. It probably seems like a big time jump for Madge, but most of this story happens after the war so I didn't want to focus too much on during-the-war. We'll still learn more about what Madge was doing—she was just being a Secretive Squirrel here. Also, FYI the propo of Gale and Katniss in District 12 is in the last chapter of "Rebel Like You."

Thanks everyone for reading! And frosted Peeta cookies for Medea Smyke, EStrunk, and Miss Scarlett 05 for fielding my questions so thoughtfully. :)


	6. Conflicts of Interest

**Chapter 6: Conflicts of Interest**

Madge wakes up to the sound of Zipper scratching at the door to the spare bedroom in her aunt and uncle's house. She'd waken up first yesterday and taken him on a walk, which he apparently interpreted as a standing offer. But this morning she's more inclined to lie in bed and relive yesterday in her mind: actually hugging Gale in person instead of watching him on TV, and witnessing his relief and joy at learning she was alive.

When the sniffing and pawing sounds don't let up, she throws on some clothes, fends off Zipper's eager bouncing greeting as she opens the door, and walks him around the neighborhood in a blissed out daze. On her way back into the house she plucks a few blue and white flowers from the front yard, deciding they'd spruce up the kitchen table. Inside, she finds her aunt and uncle leisurely sipping coffee at the table in their bathrobes, sharing the newspaper.

Swallowing the lump in her throat at the vivid memory of her parents enjoying the same routine at home, she pushes forward and says a little too brightly, "Good morning! Is there a vase somewhere?"

Dusty looks up and smiles warmly. "Morning, Madge. Columbine. Nice. Check under the sink." He glances at Perri out of the corner of his eye and then quickly ducks back behind the newspaper.

Madge rummages under the sink for the vase, thinking about how strange it is to be getting to know these people who are all the family she has left. From the time she and the rebel operatives had stealthily approached Perri in the District 2 square, through the nerve-wracking ride in the back of a quarry truck to a forested spot near the district's border fence and subsequent transport under fire through the mountain valley that sheltered the rebel base, she hadn't been able to do much other than occasionally stare at them in quiet disbelief. Then, at the base, Dusty had been immediately marshaled into strategy sessions with high-ranking officers anxious for information on District 2's infrastructure vulnerabilities and Perri had been pulled into morale operations. Madge herself had been shunted into special training and subsequently assigned to Covert Intelligence and packed off to District 3. To consider that time a blur would be an overstatement.

She locates a simple glass vase for the flowers, and as she sets it on the table, Perri lowers her newspaper slightly to gaze at her. Madge braces herself, familiar with that same expression on her father: it meant a lecture was still structuring itself in his mind, waiting for the right moment to break free.

"Gale called while you were out," Perri says. "He apologized but said he forgot about another commitment and can't join us today after all."

Madge doubts Gale used those exact words, and then the meaning hits her. "Did he say what he was doing?"

"I didn't ask," Perri says, sounding slightly offended that Madge could possibly think she would make such a rude inquiry.

"Did he sound all right?" What if something happened to him? He'd seemed so thrilled to see her yesterday.

"Madge, I have no idea. Doesn't he always sound irritated?"

Madge retrieves her research file on Gale from her room; it contains his phone number among other things. Using the dining room phone, she tries to call his house but only gets his answering machine.

"Hi Gale, it's Madge. I'm sorry you can't come to the house with us. I hope you're OK. I'll call later this week if it looks like I'll be visiting next weekend… Um, hopefully I can see you then… Uh… Bye."

She quickly replaces the phone, embarrassed at how Not Smooth she sounded, especially since this house is so small everyone can hear everything. She and Gale probably woke up her aunt and uncle last night when they were bandaging her hand… An even more powerful wave of embarrassment overtakes her at the memory of Perri walking in on them kissing. Maybe Gale was too embarrassed to spend the day with all of them after that?

She walks back to the kitchen and pours a cup of tea. "We need to leave soon to get to the house by 9:00, don't we?" She speaks briskly, hoping it's not obvious how disappointed she is. "Can you drop me off at the train station afterward? I want to get back early to check on a few things at work."

"Whatever you want, Madge," Dusty says.

Perri stands up and starts pulling eggs out of the refrigerator. "Breakfast?"

Madge nods, still anchored to the counter near the sink where she's drinking her tea, and watches her aunt pull out a pan and turn on the range.

"Have a seat," Perri directs. Madge sits delicately in the nearest chair, thinking to herself that she should be used to not having Gale by now. It's not like she 'had' him before the war separated them, either. "Madge," Perri says as she cracks an egg into the pan, "war changes people."

Here it is: the lecture is spilling out of her aunt like the contents of the now-sizzling egg.

"I know that," Madge says, a little more sharply than she intends.

"I know you know. You'll probably be the first to say how you aren't the same person you were before the war. Which is why proceeding slowly would be wise. You might not know Gale as well as you think you do."

Madge glares at her aunt. "He's not really how he seems on TV."

"True," Perri says. "But I do see him nearly everyday at work. I'm only saying it would be good for both of you to get to know each other as you are now before rushing into anything."

Madge slouches lower in her chair, annoyed at the tone of this lecture. Shouldn't being an orphan mean she shouldn't have to endure awkward parental lectures about moving too fast with boys? She feels tears prick her eyes, imagining what would have happened if her mother caught her kissing anyone, let alone a miner, in their kitchen back home. It wouldn't have been pretty; Perri's lecture feels positively indulgent in comparison.

She notices Dusty studiously pretending to read the newspaper, avoiding getting involved in the conflict. Not that there's even a conflict; Perri is just warning Madge. _Pointlessly_ since she won't get to see Gale for at least another week, and that's only if everything goes well. That's slow, isn't it? Seeing someone once a week, if that?

"You're an adult and I know you'll exercise good judgment," Perri says, dishing the eggs onto three plates lined up on the counter.

Madge isn't sure what Perri's basing her opinion about Madge's judgment on other than aspirations. How does Perri know Madge wasn't a total hellion in 12?

"What did my parents tell you about me?" she asks. Even though their families didn't visit in person anymore after the Capitol harmed her mother, they still exchanged letters and spoke on the phone when they could get a connection.

"Quite a bit," Perri says with a smile. "They were very proud of you."

Madge guiltily remembers all the stress she caused them with her efforts to avoid the Capitol's training program and decides Perri doesn't know what she's talking about. Her parents couldn't have communicated freely, so Dusty and Perri no doubt have a very incomplete picture of Madge. In fact, Gale knows her much better than either of them.

She keeps her comments to herself, though, and politely accepts the plate of eggs from Perri. Thankfully, Perri starts talking to Dusty about her travel schedule for the Reconstruction Committee's upcoming fact-finding missions. Madge listens half-heartedly to their conversation as she eats, does the washing up, and then retreats to the spare room to pack her things for the trip back to the Capitol.

Her mood improves once they arrive at her grandparents' former house. Or, as Madge thinks of it: one of the few buildings still standing that her father had a connection to. Inside the house, Perri points out which items arguably belong to their family, not the government, though Madge doesn't care about things like paintings and curtains. She's more interested in picturing her father walking through these same rooms while growing up. The house reminds her of her home in 12—large and used for official functions. She never knew anything different and feels comforted that her father had a similar childhood experience.

Best of all, the house has a piano. Madge's fingers twitch in anticipation as soon as her eyes land on it. It's a grand, covered with a dust cloth that she pushes back far enough so she can lift the keyboard cover and test a few keys to gauge how well in tune it is. Not great, but not bad enough to deter her. She pushes the dust cloth back further and slides onto the edge of the bench near the high notes. Using just her right hand, she crawls her fingers downward toward the lower notes, the bandage from her Zipper-injury not hindering her progress. It feels so good to hear the familiar tones, she slides all the way onto the bench and puts both hands on the keys to see if she remembers her scales. She does: the notes pour out, her fingers remembering more than she realized. And then, just like she's back home in District 12 in her family's parlor on one of her mother's good days, her hands find a song to match her mood and a melancholy tune starts to wind its way through the room.

When she reaches the end of the song, she doesn't pull her hands away from the keys, listening to the echo of the final note float through the air.

"Sounds sad." Looking up, she sees Dusty watching her from the doorway, hands in his pockets.

"Maybe, but it has little hints of happiness here and there," Madge says.

Dusty wanders over and absently presses one of the keys. "You know, Perri isn't used to kids. She's just worried about you."

"I'm not a kid," Madge points out.

He shrugs. "You were… It'll take some adjusting. She wants to do right by your parents."

Madge feels the watery feeling returning at the reminder of her parents and stares at the piano keys without responding. This weekend has been full of so many highs and lows, it's like she's a leaf being twisted around on competing wind currents, wearing her out. She just wants to get back to her normal routine and Simon and work.

#

The whooshing sensation the fast-moving elevator sends through her stomach still surprises her, even after living in this building for over a month, and triggers her to cling to the decorative gilt railing to steady herself. On the top floor, she steps out and walks down the long hallway to her apartment. Opening the door just wide enough, she tosses her backpack in without bothering to turn on the light and then pivots and crosses the hallway to knock on the door immediately across from hers.

Simon opens the door a few moments later, and she can tell from his too-tousled hair and preoccupied expression that something is off. As soon as Madge enters the apartment she understands what it is: a slightly older, more polished version of Simon is standing behind him in the entryway. She's seen pictures and of course has studied the file, but this is the first time she's ever seen his brother in person and she's instantly on edge as well.

"Madge, Edwin," Simon says unenthusiastically. "Ed, Madge."

Edwin gazes at Madge with barely disguised hostility, and then snidely smiles and extends his hand to shake hers. "Charmed. So, _Undersee_, you're the paragon of integrity and saintliness influencing my dear little brother."

"Watch it," Simon warns, glaring at his brother.

"Just some good-natured teasing," Edwin says without smiling, still watching Madge closely through narrowed eyes.

Madge can't believe Edwin half-raised Simon when their father died; he's vile. And clearly still harboring resentment toward her for her father's role in getting their mother arrested before he became the mayor of 12.

Simon holds the door open in a clear gesture for Edwin to exit. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else."

His brother leaves without another word but his cologne lingers, burning the back of Madge's throat. Simon closes the door and glowers at it briefly before slumping against the wall with a deep sigh. He looks at Madge, the exhaustion and strain of the past few months evident in his eyes. As difficult and stressful as the war was, returning to the Capitol afterward was even more difficult for him because his brother was facing possible execution and because everyone he knew was suspicious of him for working for the rebels.

"So," he says apologetically, "that was him. Do you see why I didn't bring you when I visited before?" He pushes himself off the wall, and moves toward the kitchen. "Hungry? I can re-heat some soup. Carrot ginger," he adds with a hint of a grin, aware it's one of her favorites.

"Thanks," Madge says, moving to her favorite barstool on the other side of the counter where she usually sits while Simon cooks. She calls it her Supervisor's Stool and watches as he pulls a container out of the refrigerator and pours its contents into a pot. She eats most of her meals at Simon's apartment because he actually shops and knows how to cook. Apparently cooking was a competitive hobby in the Capitol, with people constantly trying to one-up their friends with increasingly exotic recipes and expensive ingredients. Simon had been a champion in his circles, but now that he's an outcast Madge is the primary recipient of his culinary efforts.

While she's trying to assess his mood so she'll know how hard to probe to get him to talk about his brother's visit—a stressful topic for him on the best days—he casts sly look at her. "Well? Did you see the war hero?"

Madge nods, her smile from the previous day sneaking out again.

Simon stirs the simmering soup and smirks. "You're blushing. Must have gone _nauseatingly_ well."

She makes a noncommittal noise and wishes she could better control her flushing cheeks.

Simon laughs. "And did he say anything about Committee Member Fisher? Or Douglas?"

Targets of some of their most recent investigations. "You know I wasn't going to ask him," Madge scolds. They covered this before she left.

"I know, and I agree with you," Simon says nonchalantly, "but if he happened to mention something useful about them in passing…"

He did, but it doesn't feel fair to disclose that to Simon. Besides, Gale had just been blowing off steam about how much those two annoyed him, and earning Gale Hawthorne's disdain isn't exactly a distinctive achievement.

Eager to shift the conversation away from Gale, Madge asks, "Did they decide yet about your brother's trial? Is that why he was here?"

Simon turns to the refrigerator and starts pulling out vegetables for a salad. "They're still reviewing the file. But I think he might be able to get out of the trial if he testifies at the loyalty hearings."

"I didn't realize those were actually happening," Madge says with a frown. The new government only recently realized they needed the expertise of some of the former Capitol officials, and after endless debate about whether they could be trusted or not, the loyalty hearings were proposed. All the most senior Capitol officials have already been kicked out of their positions, with most having been convicted in trials of crimes against the districts, but no one was sure what to do with the lower-level people who had crucial knowledge about how to run the country yet weren't influential enough to have been making the decisions that marked President Snow's reign of terror. Simon, whether out of brotherly concern or an awareness that he would have been in the same position as his brother if he hadn't been in 12 when the bombs hit, has been doing what he can to advocate on his brother's behalf, but it puts him in a tricky position.

"The hearings sound totally useless," Madge adds, reaching for a cucumber slice to nibble on. "People will say whatever keeps them alive or ends the scrutiny."

"It's for optics. Makes it look like the government is doing something, and possibly scares those testifying into actually being loyal… I'm hoping Edwin fits into that category." He looks up from the cutting board and raises his eyebrows. "Luckily, we have more effective methods of proving loyalty and disloyalty…"

"Have you told your brother about our other methods?"

Simon shakes his head tightly. "Gave him the standard cover story about working in the Department of Economic Analysis and having done helpful work for the rebels during the war. I think he suspects it's B.S., though. He's sharp."

Madge quietly watches Simon cut a tomato. Their group is responsible for generating a lot of the evidence that's been used against the former Capitol officials in the trials, and they haven't uncovered any damaging evidence about his brother yet, which she's grateful for purely out of concern for Simon. Edwin had worked in the Gambling Regulation Office so everything he did related to the Capitol citizens' own propensity for gaming and at least arguably didn't directly harm the districts.

"Speaking of other methods," Simon continues, "I need you to go back to 7 this week."

"Jennings?"

"Who else?" He tilts his head toward the file on the counter, which Madge picks up and flips through. They've been trying to get some dirt on this guy for a while now, but he's slippery. As she scans the printouts, some suspiciously large withdrawals from his company's primary account catch her eye.

"Bribery?"

"I think so," he says. "But who? And for what?"

Cash is harder for them to track, which is probably why Simon wants her to go in person to investigate. Madge scans the file, starting to come up with theories based on the few facts they already have and what she remembers from her time in District 7. Jennings ran the main lumber mill and had been eager to resume operations… She can check her theories in the district.

"Who else is coming?" Madge asks.

"Take the new girl. I want her to get some field experience."

Officially, Simon is her boss, in charge of their financial investigations group. He's usually so busy managing their group and getting the evidence in order for the trials that he doesn't perform many of the actual investigations anymore.

"Once she's ready, you can downgrade to doing pure analyst work." He looks up at her and winks. "Assuming all goes well with the war hero."

"I'm not downgrading again," Madge says firmly. She just gave up her Classified Status and submitted all the paperwork so she can officially be Madge Undersee again, and she only took those actions so she could see her aunt and uncle again and try to make contact with Gale. She's not giving up any more of her access.

Simon pauses slicing to frown at her. "If you want to see your family and the war hero more often, it might be a good idea…"

"I can visit on weekends. They're all busy on weekdays anyway." She sets down the file. "And shouldn't you want me to keep working?"

"The duplicity will start to wear on you, Madge. Just remember it's an option."

Madge ignores him and keeps reading the file. He's getting soft.

#

Gale bursts into his apartment late on Thursday night, exhausted from all the extra assignments he's been taking on at work, and from climbing and volunteering during his non-working hours. The idea is to stay busy and he's been so successful that he hardly thinks anymore about canceling on Madge last Sunday. After realizing what a horrible error he'd made in trying to reconnect with her, he'd migrated to one of his most hated destinations: the hospital. Specifically, the burn unit. He can't unburn Katniss or Peeta or Prim or any of the others, but he can try to distract other burn victims from their pain. He arranged with the nurses to read to people—anonymously—and spent the day in various patients' rooms.

Between early morning climbs at the old quarry and staying at work as late as he can, he's been able to avoid arriving at home until just before he'd keel over from fatigue anyway. It's almost like being back in 12 when he had to work the overtime mining shifts.

He's half-heartedly considering tackling the mountain of unopened mail on his counter when the phone rings from somewhere under the pile. Unconcerned, he lets the answering device deal with it, but then he freezes when he hears Madge's voice, muffled slightly through the layers of papers.

"Hi Gale. It's Madge." Like he doesn't know that. "I guess I missed you again. Um, I'm really sorry but I have to work this weekend and won't be able to visit. Maybe you're busy anyway. I'll try to call again later… Sorry there isn't a number where you can reach me…"

No number? He frantically pushes the catalogs and envelopes away to excavate the phone, but the line has already disconnected. What if he needs to talk to her? He notices there are 8 other messages blinking at him and suddenly he has to hear if she tried to call earlier.

She did. So did his mom and Milo and a bunch of idiot reporters, but he deletes all those messages and saves the ones from Madge. He replays them a few times purely to hear her voice, justifying the sappiness as allowed because there are no witnesses. She seems distracted, and slightly sad. Even though he's sworn her off, shouldn't he still at least check that she's all right?

He calls her aunt and uncle, relieved Dusty is the one to answer. Perri had made it clear at work on Monday that she was disgusted he'd ditched their excursion to the mansion, although all she said was that she hoped he'd seen to his other business adequately.

"It's Gale. How can I get in touch with Madge? She left messages saying there's no number where she is."

"She must be embedded," Dusty says. "I don't quite understand it, and she doesn't explain… She calls when she can."

"What if there was an emergency?" Gale demands. Not being able to talk to her is starting to feel like one.

"Exactly. We don't like it, either," Dusty says sadly. "The best we can do is call her friend, someone named Simon, but he's not always available either. Do you want his number?"

_Hell no_. "It's not urgent."

Gale doesn't know why he's so mad that she's not visiting; this is better, since he shouldn't see her anyway. Still, he clears off the counter near the phone and stares at it, ready to pounce if she calls again. Every time the stupid light blinks, taunting him, he gets angrier. Why does Madge get to keep fighting the war, while he sits in meetings all day?

#

Gale is starting to regret the addition of the sub-committees to the Reconstruction Committee's mission. For one thing, routine business takes twice as long now and even fewer decisions are made. Second, he has to fend off accusing looks from Madge's aunt. It's been over two weeks since he saw Madge, and she eventually stopped calling his empty house, no doubt because she only ever got the answering device. Concern and worry had finally forced him to inquire with Perri whether they'd heard from her. Perri confirmed that Madge had called a few times to say that she was still tied up and couldn't visit, which had quickly replaced Gale's concern with resentment that _she_ was blowing _him_ off now.

He's also aware that his latest crime in Perri's eyes is his refusal to attend the Committee's fact-finding mission to 12. Perri hadn't bought his excuse that he didn't need to go since he's a military representative, not the official delegate from 12. Instead she had pointedly volunteered herself for the trip to 12 when it was apparent that they needed more people. Gale, looking for extra work to keep him busy and unavailable to travel, had volunteered for the group making recommendations on how to expand the districts beyond their existing boundaries.

He's in a meeting on that topic at the moment, and finds he actually has useful comments to contribute. The group is debating a detailed plan to allow citizens to purchase land through a lottery system, with the plan's proponents arguing that this would be the fairest way to distribute parcels.

"No, it's not fair at all," Gale interrupts. "Who has that kind of money?"

The others peer at him curiously, probably amazed he's speaking.

"People from the Capitol and people who benefited from the Capitol, that's who," Gale answers for them. "Not the people who fought to win this war." Not the former slaves like him and the vast majority of district citizens.

"People can't expect to get something for nothing," Committee Member Douglas scolds.

Gale doesn't like his tone, or his implication that people like Gale didn't 'give' anything to the Capitol. "People in the districts labored their entire lives." He thinks of his father. "In some cases, to their deaths. They gave plenty."

He gazes challengingly at the other meeting attendees, aware in that moment more than ever before that his ability to influence this debate outweighs theirs. If he detects even a hint of unfairness in the proposal, all it would take is a few comments in a press briefing to turn public sentiment against the idea, which would eventually have to be approved by a vote of the country's citizens. The others can easily go to the press, too, but they'll come off as the faceless, privileged bureaucrats they are while he's the skeptical rebel keeping an eye on them. He sees that the others are equally aware of his outsized influence over public opinion and that they need to listen to his points. He's not entirely comfortable with this unwelcome level of power, but he's not comfortable with the plan they're suggesting, either, and that's more important at the moment.

"What about," Rhoda suggests after a lengthy silence, "a system of loans, where people would be able to purchase land with the promise of repaying the price later."

The idea of owning anyone anything doesn't sit well with Gale, but neither does being left out of land distribution. "That might work," he says. "If it could be done fairly and the repayment wouldn't be another way to enslave people. We also might be able to value past labor."

Rhoda nods cautiously. "Let's keep thinking about this, shall we?" She adjourns the meeting, and Gale's left with the strange feeling that it wasn't a total waste of time. The idea of getting some land of his own is also enticing…

He's in a marginally better mood than usual as he exits the building, and automatically breaks into a smile when he sees Madge waiting outside the building. She's safe and back from wherever she was. And the way she's leaning against the stone pillar at the base of the stairs reminds him of waiting with his mother at the mine entrance for his father to get off his shifts, back in the pre-Rory days before Gale started school and when his mother had more time. But then he remembers he's supposed to be either avoiding Madge or angry with her for being totally elusive and schools his expression back into a disapproving frown.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, his greeting is limited to a blunt question. "You waiting for me, or your aunt?"

"You," she says, sounding slightly insulted. "Perri actually answers her phone. If I want to talk to her I don't have to wait outside buildings."

"If you want to talk to people, you could leave a return number," he shoots back. She's even more difficult to get in touch with than he is. "What did you need to see me about?"

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"You're here," he points out. Someone exiting the building bustles past them, pushing Madge slightly into him. He steadies her by grabbing her upper arms and notices she smells as good as ever, distracting him momentarily from his irritation.

She blushes and steps out of the temptation zone quickly, thank goodness. "I need to talk to you about something."

He's instantly wary. "What?"

Not the response she was hoping for, judging by her frown. She glances at her watch. "I'm getting a ride home with Perri whenever her meeting ends. Can we sit at the fountain and wait for her to come out?"

He _could_ invite her to dinner and offer to give her a ride to her aunt and uncle's house afterward, but both of those would require spending more time with her than is allowed. So he limits himself to a curt nod and follows her to the fountain in the courtyard, where he makes sure to sit a safe distance away. Madge eyes the wide space between them on the ledge of the fountain and looks hurt. He's grateful he's wearing his dress uniform with a high collar so she won't be able to see that he stopped wearing the key necklace; he'd surely cave if he had to witness her registering its absence.

Madge takes a deep breath. "Perri wants me to go with her when she travels to 12 for research next week. She said the historian wants to talk to me since I worked in my dad's office. All the records were destroyed and barely anyone who worked in the Justice Building survived. And I could see Katniss and Peeta."

"Are you going? Don't you have to _work_?" Huh, more bitter than he realized about her work keeping her from him…

Madge twists her bracelet, some kind of sparkly silver thing. He wonders if she bought it in the Capitol and is transforming into a jewelry kind of person. "I just wrapped up a project, so I _could_ go," she says quietly, as though she's speaking to the bracelet. "But I was hoping you could come with us. I know you told Perri you didn't want to go, but I thought if I asked you…" She looks up at him and he has to look away quickly or he won't be able to say no to her.

Because of course he can't go; he needs to give Katniss time to heal. He's the absolute worst thing for her. "I can't go back," he says, not looking at Madge and speaking in a low tone.

"You did before," she says. The implication he hears is that he went with Katniss, so he should go with her. And that he's already faced the destruction, so he can do it again.

"Madge, I can't go back to 12."

"Why?" She definitely sounds hurt and he feels awful for being the cause… This is exactly why she should stay away from him. He keeps staring at the pattern of pebbles on the ground until Madge prompts him again. "Gale. Why not?"

"I can't see Katniss." He hopes that will kill this line of questioning. She was always sensitive about whatever was going on between him and Katniss (nothing, confusion, pain, and finally: nothing but pain).

"Gale," she persists, twisting to look at him, "you're both stubborn. But you were such good friends, if you guys just talked—"

"Madge," he interrupts, "there's nothing to talk about. It's best for her if I stay away from 12."

"Why, though? That doesn't make any sense."

"Not to you, maybe, but it's the right thing." He flicks a piece of debris into the fountain.

Madge sits quietly and he thinks she'll drop all this and let him go on his decidedly non-merry way. Instead, she tries one more time. "What happened?" Her voice is barely a whisper, as though she isn't sure she wants to know.

He doesn't answer her question. "I need to get home."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you always try to fix things," he snaps, turning to look at her. "You don't get it that some things aren't fixable."

"Everything _is_ fixable—"

"Madge, leave this alone."

He stands up abruptly. He's been through all the facts and arguments with the head doctor the army made him talk to and he knows on a rational level that he shouldn't be blaming himself to the extent he is, but knowing that doesn't change how terrible he feels _all the time_. And Madge will just say all the same useless things the doctor did.

"I'll see you around, Madge."

She stands up, too, searching his face for understanding. "Around? I thought… You were glad to see me… I'm visiting for the whole weekend."

"Sorry I didn't arrange a parade in your honor. Since I never know where you are or when you'll turn up again."

He clamps his mouth shut, horrified that he lashed out. More evidence of why he would be terrible for her; he can't even control himself to be civil to his long lost… whatever Madge is. Nothing. He doesn't owe her anything other than clarity that _they_ are nothing.

She seems just as shocked at his rudeness as he is, and he takes advantage of her silence to step back. "I can't see you, Madge. Not this weekend or any others."

He forces himself to watch her reaction; her mouth opens as though to protest, but no words come out. He needs to leave before she starts yelling or crying or tries to touch him because his resolve is tenuous at best, and even though he knows this is the right decision it feels sickeningly wrong.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And… we're definitely down from the high of the reunion. :P Wow, Gale sure thinks he has all the answers. I hate letting them fight.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	7. No Place Like Home

**Chapter 7: No Place Like Home**

The only other time Madge arrived by train to District 12 was when she was 4 years old, and she had no idea on that trip how much her life was about to change. She hadn't known the Capitol doctors had operated on her mother to give her a chronic headache condition and that she would be largely deprived of a mother from that point forward. On this trip, she's at least aware of the awfulness waiting for her: the ashy wasteland that used to be her entire universe.

"The delegates from 12 are meeting us at the train station," Perri says, peering at Madge over the wire frames of her glasses as she takes a break from the newspaper from District 6, where the train had stopped briefly and Madge had been able to visit Patty while the rest of the group took a tour. "They arrived a few days ago and will show us the rebuilding highlights. Then the historian will interview you and you can visit your friends."

Madge nods absently, the queasiness in her stomach growing more pronounced the more familiar the terrain outside the train becomes, flat yellows and browns building into the rolling green hills covered with types of trees she recognizes. She knows the historian will ask whatever he needs to about how her father ran District 12 and that she'll share whatever she remembers. It's the questions there aren't answers to she's most concerned about. Like how can she say good-bye to her parents when their bodies and the family home are gone? How could an entire district have been destroyed in a few hours? How can everybody still alive ensure it never happens again?

Well, she has some ideas on that last one.

And so does Aunt Perri. During the early stages of the journey, Perri proposed her idea that Madge should work as an assistant to the delegates from 12. Perri's theory was that since it's so far for the delegates to travel from 12 to the meetings in 2 and since they wanted to spend as much time as possible in the district with their families and building their new homes, Madge could help them from District 2 by keeping them updated on the events they didn't need to attend in person. Then they would only have to travel for the formal sessions and votes.

Madge had declined and promptly pretended to fall asleep. But the topic periodically resurfaces and she can tell from the way her aunt is setting the newspaper down on the table that she's preparing to launch into another pitch.

"Perri, I already have a job." Maybe if she preempts the topic her aunt will drop it.

"A dangerous job."

"It's not that dangerous," Madge mumbles as she looks out the window, aware she can't fool Perri on this point and not putting much effort into trying. She prefers to think of her job as risky, not necessarily dangerous.

Perri lets Madge shift uncomfortably under her steely gaze for a moment and then tries a new angle. "Your father would have been proud to know that you were helping the people of your district, and you could do a lot of good this way."

"I'm helping people with what I do now."

"At what personal cost, though? How many trips to visit us did you have to cancel in the last month? When was the last time you saw Gale?"

Madge feels her body tense. She didn't tell her aunt and uncle that Gale had rejected her (she can't even call it breaking up since they were never together), partly because she doesn't understand what happened, and partly because it feels too wrong to be real. She has a hard time comprehending that he might not like her anymore, and an even harder time acknowledging that she might have screwed things up for exactly the reasons Perri is implying.

"Madge," Perri says in a softer tone, "you knew your district far better than the delegates did, and after this trip you'll have an even better understanding of the current state of affairs. Twelve was your home, and Gale's too, and what if you want to move back—"

"That isn't going to happen," Madge says sharply.

"Well, clearly not anytime soon," Perri says in an exasperated tone. She hasn't hid her irritation with Gale in refusing to go on this trip, or her more generalized impatience with him. "But eventually he'll get over whatever is keeping him from 12, and in the meantime you could be well-positioned to have an important role here—"

"I don't care about that," Madge interrupts angrily. "Just because Dad was the mayor doesn't mean I'm entitled to anything here. That's not how it works anymore."

Perri sits back, seemingly offended. "That isn't at all what I meant. You would have to prove yourself, but this would be a good opportunity to do so, and more importantly, I think you would be good at it and that it would make you happier."

Madge isn't sure about any of that and scowls at Perri's newspaper between them on the table. Perri doesn't know her well enough to know what would make her happy and is probably just projecting her memories of Madge's father onto Madge. And Perri definitely doesn't know when or if Gale will 'get over' his mysterious Katniss issues and newfound disdain for Madge, which Madge can't even think about without feeling sick.

Once it's clear Madge is no longer participating in the conversation, Perri murmurs that the job is something worth thinking about, and then picks up her newspaper again. Madge crosses her arms and looks out the window, trying to distract herself from the frustration and confusion sitting like undigested wartime ration bars in her stomach. She sees charred trees beginning to appear outside the train's window, burned branches giving way to entire stands of blackened trunks. Then the train's speed slows noticeably, confirming that they're now in the burn zone surrounding District 12. Unable to look away from the window, Madge feels her anxiety increase with each inch closer to 12 they move. Is she ready to witness her entire world flattened, burned, twisted, and gone?

She has to grip Perri's arm tightly as they disembark in the makeshift train depot, really just a slab of concrete. Building materials—lumber, tiles, crates of nails—are stockpiled nearby and people she doesn't recognize are transporting items by wheelbarrow and cart. Numbly, she forces her feet to follow Perri and the rest of their small fact-finding group as the two designated delegates, former miners Madge doesn't know, lead everyone on a tour of the progress clearing and rebuilding the district.

The delegates' voices seem muffled, the way sounds were muted when she swam in the ocean in District 4 during the war. Her brain is probably storing some of the information they're sharing, but all she's aware of is _flatness grayness jagged remnants of buildings_. No trees remain, only stumps, so there's no shade anywhere to offer relief from the oppressive sun and there are no landmarks to indicate where they are. She becomes vaguely aware that they're looking at what used to be the mines and that the delegates are describing new mining methods to be used in areas farther outside the district's old boundaries, but she can't focus and instead stares at the oversized truck rumbling down the road toward them, sending clouds of fine ash into the heavy, hazy air.

They end up back in town. What used to be town. She doesn't remember walking here, but Perri is still firmly supporting her so she guesses she was steered. She hears Perri asking her something in a gentle tone and nods because it's easier than explaining that words don't make sense right now. And then they're standing on a stretch of sidewalk with a crack shaped like an 'M,' which she'd always thought was fitting since it sat right outside the gate to her house. M for Madge. M for Madge's house. M for Mayor.

Only there is no house anymore. There's a hulking pile of blackened boards that look like scattered toothpicks loosely corralled by what used to be walls. And nothing but air where the second and third stories used to be. Her bedroom. Her father's study. Her parents' bedroom. Where they'd both been at the end… Where they must have fallen through the floor when the house splintered apart… Tumbling amidst the crackling flames and crashing sounds of collapse Madge remembers all too vividly…

#

The next thing she's conscious of is cool pressure on her forehead. Reaching up, she feels a wet cloth draped above her eyebrows and when she opens her eyes, she sees Perri leaning over her, looking worried. Blinking, Madge tries to sit up but feels weak and only manages to lift her head slightly.

"Drink this," Perri murmurs, pushing a glass of water at her. Madge focuses on taking a few sips while Perri nervously fusses with the rag. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm sorry, Madge. We could have done the interview with the historian by phone. I thought this would help you…"

Madge still doesn't know where her words have gone and puts all her energy into drinking the rest of the water. And then she notices she's wearing a different shirt.

"You threw up, too," Perri admits, sounding like she blames herself. "I pulled one of your other shirts from the suitcase." She exhales slowly and pats Madge's arm. "Rest. We can stay in here for the afternoon."

Where is here? Madge doesn't recognize the room she's in, though it has the makeshift look of the temporary trailers she periodically had to inhabit in other districts during the war. The fact that it was never part of 12 is comforting and she lets her eyes close as she sinks backward onto the cot…

When she wakes up again, she's alone, although she can hear Perri's voice nearby, speaking calmly and insistently. Staring up at the trailer's ceiling, she wishes she could talk to Gale. Wishes he'd come here with her on this trip. He's the only person from 12 in her life—if he still counts as being in her life—who endured and survived the bombing. A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek, so she shifts onto her side to wipe her face on the coarse fabric of the cot. Why is he so confusing? And why is she so weak? In that propo when Gale and Katniss came back to 12, neither of them threw up or fainted, and at that point there hadn't been _any_ cleanup. Unless the producers selectively edited… But probably not: Gale and Katniss are two of the toughest people Madge has ever known.

Madge sits up. She has to see Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch; she can't forgo this opportunity. Unsteadily, she rises and has to clasp the nearby desk while her body orients to being upright again. Purely by habit she starts scanning the numerous papers littering the desk's surface and is alarmed to see a large schematic of what looks like a mountain with its summit lopped off. She's just starting to inspect the drawing more closely when she hears footsteps approaching, a reminder that she isn't here to be doing this, so she promptly abandons the desk and returns to the cot.

The visitor is Perri, and Madge discovers that she's able to speak again, assuring her aunt that she'll be able to do the interview with the historian; she just wants to visit Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch first.

#

Madge walks along the road to the Victor's Village by herself later that afternoon, disturbed that the formerly familiar path is now unrecognizable and even more disturbed that the Victor's Village is the only part of the district that wasn't bombed, a lingering reminder of how twisted the Capitol was. The Village looks almost the same as before, only now all the homes are occupied, many with repainted doors and curtains on windows. Haymitch's house is in as terrible shape as ever, but it looks like someone has done some landscaping at Peeta's and Katniss' houses.

Feeling slightly shaky, Madge walks to Katniss' house and slowly climbs the stairs. After several attempts from the trailer to call all three of them, she finally caught Peeta and arranged to meet them here.

The door opens before Madge can knock, and she finds herself looking into Katniss' face. Not the Mockingjay, but the girl Madge used to eat lunch with everyday, a girl who's deeply familiar and at the same time, different: scarred from burns, gaunt and even more underweight than when they were classmates, and with a skittish look in her eyes.

"Madge?" Katniss croaks, clearly having trouble with words. But it's enough of Katniss' voice and it's such a relief to hear her in person that Madge feels her limited composure start to melt away.

She nods and takes a step forward hesitantly, not sure if a hug would damage Katniss' delicate skin, but Katniss darts out of the doorway and hugs her first. Madge closes her eyes and remembers that the last time she saw Katniss in person was at the final reaping. Over a year ago, though it feels like a lifetime has passed. She starts to cry, remembering how terrible that day had been, and how it had only been a shadow of the horrors that followed…

When she opens her eyes again, she sees Peeta hovering slightly behind Katniss, his eyes misty but still recognizable as belonging to the small boy she used to encounter sitting outside the bakery on hot summer days, always eager to slip away for a glass of lemonade in the Undersee kitchen. Katniss moves aside and Peeta takes his turn hugging her.

They explain that Haymitch was 'asleep' last they checked on him, and migrate into the kitchen to sit at the table and catch up, which first involves a grim acknowledgment of their dismal family statistics. Between the three of them, only Katniss has a surviving immediate family member and even that isn't joyful information because Mrs. Everdeen is living in District 4 rather than with her daughter. Madge hides her dismay and doesn't ask why, picking up on Katniss' discomfort. She tells them her cover story about having been rescued by the rebels and working for them during the war, and now working in an economics office in the Capitol. They don't ask for details about the war, she assumes because they don't want to talk about it either.

Peeta's good at steering the conversation toward more positive topics, like who from 12 has returned. He reports that a handful of their classmates are thinking about settling in the district again.

"There isn't enough housing yet for more than the cleanup crews and initial builders," Peeta explains. "And the supply shipments haven't been steady enough to support everyone, though we get by well enough, thanks to Katniss." He smiles shyly at her, as though she might balk at the compliment.

"You bake," Katniss murmurs, looking at the floor rather than Peeta.

"I couldn't forget the Mellark recipes if I tried," he says weakly, and then frowns faintly at the floor.

Since they're both studying the kitchen linoleum, Madge looks around the room, noticing for the first time how many gouged-out holes are near the light fixtures, as though giant mice gnawed into the walls from the outside. And then she realizes the holes are most likely situated where the Capitol's surveillance devices were. She momentarily pictures all the places in her own family's house where the bugs similarly need to be removed, until with a jolt she remembers her house is nothing but rubble.

Standing up, she moves closer to inspect one of the holes and sees a tangle of severed wires inside the wall. Running her hands along the wall as she visualizes the path of the wires, Madge explores the underside of the nearest cupboard and finds a hole the right size filled with a thin metal disk—one of the Capitol's devices. Katniss and Peeta watch as she points it out, and then Katniss wordlessly retrieves a mini-axe from a drawer and hacks the device away.

"Where else?" Katniss asks, focused and assertive now.

Madge shows them a few other likely hiding places in the room. Katniss and Peeta got all but the trickiest ones. As Katniss hacks at them, Peeta asks Madge in a suspicious tone, "How do you know where all these things are?"

"They were listening at my house, too," Madge says, dodging a full explanation since she obviously didn't purge all the devices from her house before the Capitol bombed it into oblivion and because she wouldn't have known where to look until recently. She knows no one is monitoring these nodes and doubts the machines even work anymore, but she isn't taking any chances. "And I picked up a few tricks during the war," she adds vaguely.

By the time they finish combing the house, Katniss looks fatigued and keeps leaning into Peeta, realizing it too late, and then jumping back from him. Madge and Peeta venture into the crawl space under the house to check for other stray wires, and when they return, Katniss is sitting on the front porch of her house holding a backpack, sleeping bag, and bow and arrow.

Peeta takes in the scene as though he's seen it before. "Need company?"

Katniss looks at him and then away. "If you want."

Apparently this is more encouragement than Peeta normally gets, because he grins involuntarily and then tries to hide it before Katniss notices.

"I'm not leaving yet," Katniss clarifies. "We need to work on your house, too." She looks at Madge for confirmation, and Madge nods. The three of them trudge across the lawn to Peeta's house and spread out to use Madge's tricks to root out the remaining microphones.

#

Some time later, Madge finds herself sobbing in a pathetic little pile on the floor in the middle of Peeta's study. She'd forgotten he had painted a mural of the District 12 town square buildings into the walls and when she entered the room she had been overwhelmed to see everything how it exists in her memory: her house, the Justice Building, the community center, the stalls on market day… All gone now, and she witnessed the exact moment of destruction for nearly every structure.

"Madge?" Peeta asks hesitantly from the doorway.

She looks up from where she crumpled and wipes her eyes, still feeling uneven. "I forgot you made this mural."

He sits next to her on the floor and gazes up at the buildings. "I spend a lot of time in this room." Madge glances around and sees the clutter of an active painting studio: several half-covered canvases on easels near the windows and paint splatters and brushes scattered on the drop cloth. "Remembering growing up in town has helped me…" He trails off but then looks back at Madge. "They can't take that away."

"Sometimes I can't see my parents' faces anymore," she admits quietly. It feels like a betrayal.

Peeta stands up and retrieves a large book from the table. He hands it to Madge, who starts flipping through it. "Katniss and I are making this. Haymitch, too. Sometimes. It's things and people we want to be sure we don't forget. There's a whole section about town…" He flips to an area at the beginning of the book and sets it back in Madge's lap.

More scenes of the town square. Several of the bakery and Peeta's family. And then she comes across a sketch of herself and her parents, standing on the elevated town stage during what looks like the Spring Blossom Festival a few years ago. She remembers the day because her mother was actually well enough to attend the ceremony and Madge had felt like she had a normal family… She fingers the edges of the painting tenderly, appreciating Peeta's care and skill. And accuracy—her parents actually look like themselves. The happy versions of themselves, which is even better. She has too many sad memories threatening to crowd out the happy ones.

"You can have it," Peeta says, pulling the book toward him and removing the page.

"No, I couldn't do that," she protests.

He holds up his hand to cut her off. "I can paint another one, and you need this more than I do."

"Thank you, Peeta," Madge whispers, still drinking in the images in the painting. A few seconds later she senses, rather than hears, Katniss in the doorway.

"I finished upstairs," Katniss announces. She sets the axe down and walks into the room, joining Madge and Peeta on the floor.

Madge picks up the book again and continues paging through it.

"We try to work on it a little each day," Peeta says quietly. "It helps."

After the section on town, there's a series of scenes in the Seam, although not as many, since like Madge Peeta probably didn't go into the Seam much. Then there are paintings of both of Katniss and Peeta's Hunger Games, including sketches of the other tributes. That's followed by another section on people, family members and friends.

The most recent entries seem to be from Gale's family. There's a child's drawing of flowers signed POSY, a barely legible scrawl detailing what appear to be the rules for a game called cinder ball, and a delicate lace white doily Gale's mom must have knit. There are also sketches of the Everdeens' cat performing various tricks, labeled with captions like 'Rory's Half-Cat Twist' and 'Hide and Seek Prim.' With a pang, Madge remembers that Gale's brother was the same age as Katniss' sister and that they must have been friends…

Madge slowly turns the page, bracing herself for something related to Gale, but it's blank. She's at the end of the book.

"Gale's not in here," she observes with a frown, looking at Katniss for an explanation. She instantly regrets bringing up Gale because the effect is like a physical assault: Katniss flinches and looks like if she really were a mockingjay, she'd fly away to the highest branch of a tree.

Peeta answers when Katniss doesn't. "I guess not yet. We're not finished with the book, though." He looks pointedly at Katniss, but she's fixated on a large red paint splotch on the drop cloth.

Madge has no idea what's going on and looks back and forth between Katniss and Peeta, but Katniss seems to be blocking out everything and Peeta is intently focused on her. The air in the room feels strained and Madge uneasily wonders if maybe Gale was right in not wanting to visit Katniss.

"Have you seen him, Madge? In District 2?" Peeta asks, though he keeps his eyes on Katniss as he speaks, watching her reaction instead of Madge. "Doesn't he work with your aunt on that committee?"

Feeling like she's intruding on a conversation between Katniss and Peeta, Madge says hesitantly, "They're both on the Reconstruction Committee. I've seen him a couple of times." It doesn't seem helpful to add that they made out in her aunt's kitchen and then fought in the District 2 square, not that she knows what any of that means.

Katniss leaps to her feet. "Did you check under the house yet, Peeta?" He shakes his head and she shoots an accusing glare at him before leaving. When they hear the front door shut, Madge relaxes slightly, not having even realized she was that tense.

Peeta leans forward and rests his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. "She won't talk about him. The doctor says it helps to talk about things, but nobody can make Katniss do what she doesn't want to…" He picks up a dry paintbrush lying on the floor and flings it angrily across the room. "He's like a loose thread on a sweater. He could unravel everything."

Peeta eyes Madge suspiciously. "Was there something between you and him?" He sounds surprised to hear his own words and quickly scrunches his eyes closed for a few seconds and seems to put all his energy into taking a series of unsteady breaths. "Did I make that up?" he asks softly. "I must have. I wanted him out of the way so badly." He opens his eyes and quirks his mouth in an embarrassed gesture. "Selfish, huh?"

Madge starts to feel panicky, her old guilt making an unwelcome resurgence. "I liked him," she admits quietly. "I wished there was something, but of course that was absurd." It's embarrassing to reveal that not only was she a rotten friend to Katniss by liking Gale, but she might as well have been one of those silly girls at school who traveled in packs and had obvious crushes on him.

"Is he… coming back here? He told me he wouldn't."

"He's not. That's why my aunt came on this trip."

Peeta visibly relaxes and then exhales loudly. He seems nearly as upset about Gale as Katniss was, and Madge realizes she can't bring herself to ask either of them to explain what happened between Gale and Katniss. In all likelihood it involved Peeta, and he seems only slightly more stable than Katniss, less so now that Katniss isn't around.

When Peeta starts flipping through the scrapbook again, Madge turns to stare at the mural in quiet contemplation, soaking it in so she can recall it later. She can almost transport herself back to a time when there still was a town and when her parents were alive. If she strains, she can hear the happy bustling sounds of market day and her parents debating whether or not to order new carpet for the parlor. She doesn't know how much time passes, but eventually Peeta says he wants to check on Katniss so he and Madge venture outside again.

They find Katniss on the Victor's Village lawn sitting next to her getaway gear. She looks small and anxious, glancing back at her house periodically, but when she spots Peeta she focuses on him and stops fidgeting. Madge feels like she's disrupting their lives; it was her revelation about the bugs that triggered Katniss to want to leave and she's clearly only delaying her departure because Madge is still visiting.

"I need to get going," Madge tells them. "I'm going to try to see Haymitch before I meet with the historian."

"He might not be in any condition for visitors," Peeta warns.

Madge glances in the direction of his house. "I'll risk it. He and my mom were friends."

"Really?" Peeta asks. "I guess that makes sense. At least as much as anyone being friends with him makes sense."

He smiles gently and Madge thinks she sees Katniss' mouth stop frowning for a microsecond. Madge gives Katniss and Peeta long good-bye hugs and promises to call, but as she walks away, she thinks what she needs is for them to promise to answer their phones, not for her to call.

To reach Haymitch's door she has to weave carefully through a flock of bedraggled geese and their droppings and stray feathers, and then she has to ring the buzzer three times for successively longer periods before she hears stumbling and cursing from inside the house. He does open the door, though, and stares at Madge as though she's a ghost.

"You never die, do you?" It's not an accusation; she hears a hint of admiration in his tone, though she isn't sure if he's aware that she's Madge, not Maysilee.

"Haymitch," she says shakily. "I wanted to thank you in person for helping Simon get those identification papers for me—"

He cuts her off with a crushing hug. Despite the fact that he clearly hasn't bathed recently and white liquor fumes are practically coming out of his pores, she hugs him back and finds herself crying again. It's true that she's grateful for his help in getting the false papers for her, but he's also one of the few people left in the world with a connection to her family—being in the Quell with Maysilee, being friends with her mother…

Releasing her, he kicks a few bottles on the floor out of his way and gestures for her to follow him. He picks up a mostly empty whisky bottle from a table in the hallway, sending the fly that had been resting on its rim fleeing into the air.

"Want a drink?"

"No, thank you." It feels odd to politely decline something so obviously foul. As far as she knows, he lived in squalor before the war, too. Maybe this is comforting to him.

Haymitch pushes a pile of yellowing newspapers off the couch and gestures for Madge to sit down. "So. I assume they made use of you during the war."

He seems to be waiting for an explanation so Madge carefully tells him her cover story, which he appears to see through but responds only by nodding approvingly. "And still working hard, I take it?"

"Aren't we all?" She has a feeling he'll understand that that's as much of a direct answer as she can provide.

"Some of us retired." Haymitch tips the bottle back and swallows. "Sounds like you're not there yet."

Madge shakes her head, but then she finds herself describing Perri's idea of working from District 2 for the delegates from 12. "My aunt says my dad would have wanted me to carry on. That he would have been proud."

She looks up at Haymitch to see his reaction: a shrug as though the statement is obvious. "Probably," he says and keeps watching Madge. He leans forward. "What do you want, permission from Mommy not to do it? You knew her better than I did."

He sighs heavily when Madge continues to stare expectantly at him; she does want him to give her some kind of insight into what her mother would say. "Listen, all she cared about was keeping the Capitol's claws out of you. Mission accomplished; you're free to do whatever you want, kid. You don't owe anyone anything. The world owes _you_."

Madge quietly considers his words, thinking Perri would probably hate Haymitch in twenty different ways if she ever had to deal with him. Luckily, it doesn't seem like she will—drinking himself into oblivion in the company of geese seems to be the only item on Haymitch's agenda.

"You see the famous cousin in Two?" Haymitch asks after a few moments, raising his eyebrows.

Looking up, Madge nods slightly.

Haymitch takes a drink from his bottle and exhales loudly, as though he's exhausted. "Good. He's not my problem," he says defensively and then gestures vaguely toward Katniss and Peeta's houses. "I have enough to deal with, keeping those two semi-functional. But that cousin could use a friend." He glances sidelong at Madge. "Or whatever you are these days."

Madge bites her lip. "He won't see me." Saying it aloud hurts, makes it seem more real and she feels tears fill her eyes. Simon is the only other person she's told about Gale's strange reaction to her, and that was before she'd left. She's so raw today, it apparently doesn't take much to push her over the edge, and she doesn't feel like she needs to put on a brave front anymore now that she's not around the new, fragile versions of Katniss and Peeta. "He was so happy to see me at first, and then suddenly he wasn't…"

Haymitch narrows his eyes. "That damn cousin nearly tore my head off in 13 when I wanted to know what happened to your family in the bombing. I made the mistake of asking if he was _sure_ none of you made it out. Seemed to be offended and blaming himself at the same time." Haymitch pauses and swirls the remaining inch of amber liquid in his bottle as he shakes his head sadly. "And that was for something where he really was blameless… He must be a real mess now."

Is Haymitch implying that Gale is guilty of something? Maybe related to Katniss? Madge can't even imagine it; Gale has always been devoted to Katniss and has been the model rebel, focused and effective at getting rid of the Capitol and now utterly dedicated to rebuilding. How could he have done anything blameworthy?

"Haymitch," Madge starts hesitantly. He always seemed to know everyone's secrets, especially anything related to Katniss, and he seems to be implying that he understands why Gale is so determined to be miserable… She has to ask. "Do you know why Gale and Katniss aren't friends anymore?"

His gray eyes meet hers. "Kind of hard to be friends when they both think he killed her sister."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Sorry this update took longer than usual—I had a really busy week. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing (also to MiSoMyself, since I couldn't reply individually). I appreciate it!

Also, if anyone hasn't seen it yet and needs a fix of happier times in District 12 and Gale and Madge actually interacting (I needed a fix myself), I started a ficlet called "Saturday Night in the Seam." It's not related to this story.


	8. The Dog Whisperer

**Chapter 8: The Dog Whisperer**

Gale pins up the map on the wall next to the large aerial photograph so he can more easily compare the various land features. The office is empty except for him—nearly everyone else is on fact-finding trips in the districts—and he considers the peacefulness and slower pace a blessing, letting him make some real progress on the plan to put more land directly into ownership by the citizens so they can control their own destinies. At least more than before.

"There you are."

Gale looks in the direction of the voice and sees an unwelcome, familiar profile in the doorway. The effect is immediate: an overwhelming urge to slam the door in the visitor's face, preferably after subjecting him to a solid pounding.

He doesn't even have a good reason for hating Simon, but decides that the guy's general smarminess and the fact that he gets to see Madge so often are enough justification. Gale can't even bring himself to articulate a greeting and instead silently watches as Simon enters the room and approaches Gale and his maps.

"Long time, no see," Simon observes, clearly in no hurry to explain why he's wandering around the Reconstruction Committee's building without an escort or why he's bothering Gale.

Gale crosses his arms and holds his ground. "Good to see you're not dead." He's aware that his tone indicates otherwise.

"Back atcha." Simon scans the rest of the room. Most of the committee members have their desks and files in this office—all the openness and proximity are intended to 'foster collaboration and collegiality,' whatever that means. Gale thinks of the room as a forest made up of desks instead of trees, and Simon strikes him as a predator—or what a predator would look like if its prey happened to be unattended government files.

"Why are you here?" Gale finally asks when Simon seems perfectly content to study the room while an awkward silence blooms.

Simon turns from his inspection of Gale's maps and focuses his full attention on Gale.

"Madge."

Hearing her name makes Gale's skin prickle. And then queasiness starts to radiate out from his stomach.

"What about her?" he demands. "Did something happen to her on that trip?" Not all the tracks have been fully repaired yet; the train could have derailed. He hasn't seen anything on the news, but Simon would know first, wouldn't he? (Another reason to hate him.)

Simon leans against the desk next to Gale's and crosses his arms. "Oh, _now_ you're concerned about her?"

"Is she safe? Nothing happened to the train?"

"The train is fine. She's not, though." Simon shakes his head in disgust. "I can't believe you didn't go with her on that trip. After everything she gave up for you, and you just toss her aside when she needs you the most—"

"I didn't _toss_—" Gale starts to say in his defense before he remembers that he did tell her he couldn't see her anymore. And then she apparently ran off and told Simon, which is infuriating and shouldn't be—if she's not in Gale's life then he shouldn't get to care about who she tells what. But he does care. He grits his teeth in frustration and says tightly, "It's better for her to not be around me."

"Oh, it is, is it? She loses her entire family, you're one of the few people she has in her life from home and for some mysterious reason she actually likes you, and you take that away from her, too? Yeah, great plan."

The enormity of Madge losing both her parents hits him like the shock wave from an explosion. To this day, he feels the ache of losing his father, but he still has his mother, Rory, Vick and Posy—four other people who lost the same person he lost and could appreciate and share the stories that would keep his father alive. Madge has… a strict aunt she barely knows who hadn't even seen Madge's family in over ten years.

Simon lets Gale flounder in his own self-loathing for a few minutes and then says briskly, "She passed out on the tour of the district. And threw up right outside what used to be her house. Not the best day for her."

Gale feels like throwing up, too, and forces himself to endure Simon's hostile expression, accepting the blame for not being there for her. When did the universe twist reality to the point where Slimebag Simon gets to lecture Gale about what's best for Madge, and may actually have a valid point? The memories of his own walk through the ashes of District 12 resurface to remind him of how destroyed he felt to go back, especially that hollowness at knowing he'd lost Madge. But he'd been able to return to his compartment in 13 that night and play card games with his family just for an excuse to spend time with them, and at that point Katniss and her family were also still safe.

"She's doing better now," Simon continues, "but she could use you as a friend when she gets back. If you can manage to stop being an asshole." He pushes himself off from the desk and stands up straight, preparing to exit.

"Wait," Gale says. "How can I get in touch with her?"

"She's out of range."

"Did she... say anything about me?" It pains Gale to be asking such a juvenile question and that he has to ask it of _Simon_, who's apparently the gatekeeper of all insights and information about Madge now, but he doesn't have a choice. He has to know if Katniss or Peeta said anything to Madge about his bomb. He can't imagine they did, and if Simon thinks Gale should be in Madge's life, he probably doesn't know about it...

"She didn't mention you," Simon answers, frowning slightly at Gale. "I don't get it. You obviously care about her. Why cut her out?"

The idea of having to justify himself to Simon of all people grates beyond tolerance. But Simon isn't leaving so Gale finally says, "I did things in the war I wish I could take back. I don't deserve her."

Simon is speechless for a few seconds, and then angrily gestures to the rest of the room. "Look around you. Do you think you're sitting with saints in those committee meetings? Do you think you're the only one trying to make things right?"

Gale frowns and Simon walks to one of the desks in the room and picks up the nameplate. "Committee Member Douglas? A real piece of work, as I think you're aware." He raises his eyebrows at Gale, who stares back stoically but does internally agree that Douglas is a shit for brains greedy jerk riding his connections and wealth for everything he can. Simon walks to the next desk. "Plutarch Heavensbee? The guy was a _Gamemaker_." He keeps walking. "Committee Member Fisher? Watch your back. Lindley? Yeah, I can see you're not impressed, either." Simon keeps wandering around the room. "Ah, Committee Member Whistler. My favorite."

"Perri?" Gale asks, surprised. "What did Perri do?"

"Ask her yourself," Simon says nonchalantly. "My point is that you're not the only person struggling with your past. I think about mine every day. But I'm not hurting Madge in the process, and you are. And you need to stop."

Gale stares at his desk, trying to digest all this information. He never understood exactly what Simon did when he worked for the Capitol, but had always assumed it was bad enough that Simon felt the need to redeem himself by helping Madge. The knowledge that Gale might actually be worse is disturbing, especially because it seems to be true: Simon helped save Madge while Gale helped kill an innocent girl who was essentially family.

"Amazing," Simon mutters. "You spend your life in the crappiest social tier of the crappiest district in the country and still think you're better than everyone and should be held to a higher standard."

"Not a higher standard," Gale corrects. "Just a standard. Everyone being terrible doesn't make any of it right."

"Great, we can recruit a bunch of five year olds to run the country," Simon says. "But not nine year olds. They start to turn nasty around seven or eight, wouldn't you say?"

Gale chooses not to respond to the sarcasm, though he's remembering how he got in his first fight at eight, when a town kid made a comment about Seam women having so many babies to beat the odds since so many of the babies died. Rory was still a baby and his mom was pregnant again, so Gale had realized in horror that the insult could apply to his family and launched an attack on the kid. He got the snot kicked out of him, but he distinctly remembers feeling proud that he had inflicted some damage on the other kid. Does that count as starting to turn nasty—feeling glad about someone else's pain? Has he always inherently been a dangerous person?

"Think about what she needs, not what you deserve," Simon orders and then walks out before Gale has a chance to say anything else, leaving Gale in his silent forest of desks.

#

On Friday, Gale leaves work early enough to squeeze in a climb, but just as he's getting ready to call Milo, the phone rings. He has the irrational hope that Madge is calling him, but it turns out to be a male voice he doesn't recognize.

"Gale! I'm glad I caught you."

"Who is this?" he asks suspiciously.

"Dusty Whistler." Madge's uncle. Gale can practically hear the man smiling through the phone, which suggests he isn't calling with bad news, although ever since Simon's visit Gale has been on edge about how Madge is faring on her trip.

"Is Madge all right?"

"Madge? Yes, as far as I know. She and Perri are still traveling. Should be back next week. Listen, I was wondering if I could get your help. There was an explosion on the road we're building between Districts 2 and 3 and they need me to leave tonight to sort it out in time for the shift tomorrow morning. Would you mind looking after Zipper for the weekend? It would really help me out."

Gale's instinct is to say no—an entire weekend of the most annoying dog in existence?—but he can't say no to Dusty. And maybe he can start trying to make things up to Madge by helping her family…

"Gale? You there? I'm sorry to spring this on you, but we don't know the neighbors well, and he's taken to digging in their garden so I don't think they'd be too keen on taking care of him…"

"Do you want me to bring him over here?" Gale asks tersely, pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief that he's agreeing to this.

"Whatever is easiest for you," Dusty gushes. "It might be easier to control him at our house since he knows the routine here, but whatever you want to do is fine."

Sold. "I'll come over there. I need to pack a few things."

"You might want to take him into the recreation area," Dusty suggests. "Hiking helps wear him out."

Gale sourly rounds up some things to take with him to Dusty and Perri's house, including his hiking gear. He throws everything into the car and starts the drive out to Hyland Village, still slightly disgusted that he's going to spend his weekend with Madge's aunt and uncle's _dog_. Not Madge, and not even other humans who don't annoy him, but Zipper. True, he wasn't doing anything else and the reporters don't know to look for him at the Whistlers' house, but he's consciously disrupting his life for the sake of an animal that he won't be skinning or turning over to the butcher. Well, _probably_ won't be.

He hefts his backpack onto his shoulder and walks to the front door of the Whistlers' house, noticing an assortment of colorful flowers have been added to the garden. He wonders if Madge planted them—she'd been getting really into her garden in 12—and if she's starting to feel more at home here.

Scrambling and barking sounds erupt before he can knock on the door, and when it opens Zipper flies out at Gale, leaping up boisterously.

"Zipper, down!" Dusty calls, grabbing the beast by his collar. Then he pets Zipper's neck as the animal leans happily into his leg. "Thanks for coming over, Gale," Dusty says warmly. "What a relief you were free."

"Yeah," Gale grunts, eyeing Zipper warily.

Dusty releases Zipper, who immediately starts sniffing Gale's shoes while Dusty finishes packing. "I'm sorry we didn't see you last weekend when Madge was here. She said you were busy."

He's relieved she apparently only told Simon, not her relatives, that he didn't want to see her. Maybe he can still salvage this.

"Have you heard from them since they left 12?" Gale asks in what he hopes is a casual tone.

"Oh, you haven't talked to her recently?" Dusty doesn't seem phased when Gale shakes his head, and just continues talking. "Perri says she's better now, although quieter than usual. Maybe you can talk to her about it more when she gets back. Sometimes that helps."

Gale feels sick again and vows to find a way to make it up to Madge. He's never talked much about the destruction of 12, aside from the propo he and Katniss filmed in the wreckage and answering inquiries from Posy and Vick. But if it will help Madge, he'll do it. He can tell her about the bomb, too, and let her reject him to his face instead of preemptively doing it for her.

Dusty hands Gale a folder containing instructions about what Zipper eats and when, and tells Gale to help himself to anything in the Whistlers' kitchen. "Mainly you'll just want to exercise him as much as possible so he doesn't tear the house apart or drive you crazy," he advises.

After Dusty leaves, Gale tosses the instructions folder onto the table without reading it and ignores Zipper, choosing instead to examine more closely the family photographs in the living room. Specifically, the Madge photographs. They've added several since the last time he was here, obviously trying to make her feel included and welcome. Is this her 'home' now? Is the Capitol? He guesses he doesn't need to worry about her moving back to 12 any time soon if it drove her to nausea and unconsciousness…

Zipper drops a mangled rag creature at Gale's feet and looks up at Gale expectantly. Is this some kind of game? If so, it's stupid. Gale kicks the vile rag away and keeps looking at the Madge photos. The ones of her when she was Posy's age make him wonder what Posy's been up to lately. He had been happy to hear from his mom the last time they'd talked that she was beating all the boys in her class in 13 during the Above-Ground Race Day competitions, but that was a while ago. He hopes Rory and Vick are looking after her.

The disgusting rag lands on Gale's shoe again and he realizes he did accidentally start a game with Zipper. He tosses the gross thing into the backyard and when Zipper bounds after it, Gale takes the opportunity to slide the glass panel door closed.

His stomach growls and he realizes he forgot to eat lunch again. Wandering into the kitchen, he pulls out a loaf of bread and some cheese to make a sandwich, but his efforts are interrupted by the sound of frenzied barking in the backyard. He rushes into the yard and sees Zipper leaping and twisting in the air, apparently hunting flying insects.

An irate neighbor is peering over the fence, eyes dark pools of frustration. "If you don't shut that thing up, I'll put a bullet in it!"

"Be my guest," Gale shoots back before remembering he's temporarily responsible for Zipper's antics. At least he understands now why Dusty didn't want to ask the neighbors to watch Zipper.

The sound of Gale's voice triggers Zipper to barrel frantically forward, muzzle and paws coated in dirt, no doubt from the massive hole in the middle of the nicely manicured yard. Gale tries to intercept the speeding animal before he can decimate the Whistlers' carpets, but Zipper anticipates the move and dodges Gale, barking happily. Gale lands on the ground and helplessly watches Zipper bolt into the house.

Picking himself up and racing after the furry blur, Gale discovers that in the space of what could have only been 10 seconds, Zipper managed to track dirt all over the carpet, jump on not only the couch but also the arm chair, and now isn't even visible. Gale finds the beast in the kitchen, scarfing down the loaf of bread that had been on the counter.

"Stop that!" he yells, but Zipper interprets Gale's outrage as the next phase of the game and gathers the rest of the loaf into his jaws and dashes away again. Luckily he ends up in the backyard, and Gale quickly locks him out.

Never before has he wanted a bow and arrow so badly. He wouldn't have to put up with any of this dodging and weaving; he could just aim, shoot, and turn the carcass over to Greasy Sae.

Gale surveys the damage and breathes a sign of relief that at least he knows how to get dirt out of cloth; his mother had a number of tricks he can use. He ignores the scratching at the door as he scrubs the upholstery and carpet. What on earth possessed the Whistlers to think this terror of an animal should be treated like a member of their family? Pausing for a moment, he thinks about how they've sort of adopted Madge and seem to be including him in their lives, too, even though he's no prize. They invited him to dinner and to visit Madge's grandparents' house, and called him to take care of Zipper…

As he cleans the carpet, a dust-covered book on dog training on the bookshelf catches his eye. He becomes immediately engrossed, recognizing many of the dog training techniques as his own methods for managing the press at briefings: rewarding good behavior (thoughtfully answering the worthwhile questions) and punishing bad behavior (not calling on the alley-dweller types who only care about gossip and speculation). It shouldn't be that difficult to train Zipper…

He spends so long reading the book, he doesn't notice that darkness has enveloped the backyard until he checks on Zipper again and sees him sleeping by the door, waiting to be allowed inside. When Zipper notices Gale, he promptly stands up and wags his tail politely.

"Are you going to cause me trouble?" Gale asks warily. The friendliness is probably a ploy.

More tail wagging. With a sigh, Gale slides open the door, hoping it's safe because there's no visible dirt on his paws.

It's not safe: the second Zipper steps onto the carpet he makes a yakking sound and throws up the bread.

#

The next morning, Gale wakes up early and calls Milo. He needs to get out of the district: he is going to hike that damn dog into exhaustion or die trying because he can't endure another night of barking, barfing, and all-around obnoxiousness. After reading Dusty's instructions and the entire training book, the best he's been able to manage is to make Zipper "sit" once. He suspects it may have been an accident.

Milo doesn't pick up, which means he's either climbing at the quarry already or was out late last night at the bar with the other climbers who've started joining them at the quarry. If he was out, there's a high probability he still has company this morning, but Gale doesn't care. When his call is routed to the answering device, he hangs up and redials. Milo is nearly as good as Gale at ignoring his phone, which means Gale knows the best tricks to get him to actually answer if he's home. Waking him up is the first step, which this series of successive hang-ups accomplishes. The next step is to leave a message that forces him to pick up if he's screening.

"This is Dr. Hawthorne calling from the clinic with your test results. You have a very contagious strain. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, under any circumstances engage in any—"

"You jackass," Milo's groggy but angry voice cuts in, picking up the phone mid-message so Gale's words are no longer broadcasting into his house. "I'm sleeping."

"I need a map," Gale says. It's already 7:00 a.m., the sun is firmly above the horizon, and the devil dog is clearly plotting his next move, resting his head on Gale's feet in an attempt to lull him into a false sense of security. "Something outside the district."

He hears the muffled sounds of Milo quietly telling someone to go back to bed, and Gale smirks that his strategy paid off. Speaking into the phone again, Milo asks, "And you couldn't wait until a normal hour? Why are you working this early on a Saturday, anyway?"

"It's not for work. What do you have?" The official maps of the district are utter garbage, but Milo started a new job recently that gives him access to better maps and he's been unofficially sharing them with Gale for the district borders expansion project.

Milo calls Gale a few more choice names, but Gale can hear him shuffling papers in the background. "We just did the area at the end of Farris Road. Most of it, anyway. I also have… let's see. The area just outside the northwest quadrant near the reservoir."

Gale arranges to drive over to Milo's house and pick up the maps, swiftly packing Zipper and all the gear they might need into his car. Predictably, Zipper is as annoying as he is everywhere else, barking enthusiastically at passing vehicles and jumping between the front seat and backseat like he has a purpose in either location (he doesn't).

When Gale pulls up, he finds Milo sitting in the bright morning sun on the single step leading to his little house, presumably waiting outside so he won't bother his sleeping visitor. Zipper launches into a frenzy of barking when a neighbor's cat walks across Milo's lawn and Gale angrily shuts him inside the car.

"You got a dog?" Milo asks skeptically. Gale can't tell if he's hungover or just typically weekend-scruffy. Not that Gale shaved or brushed his hair this morning, either; Milo, Zipper, and a bunch of trees don't care what he looks like.

"I'm just looking after it this weekend." Gale can't believe he's admitting that he's babysitting a dog, even if only to Milo. "For a friend. Friends."

Milo snorts. "Since when do you have friends?"

Gale rolls his eyes, used to Milo giving him grief about constantly declining the invitations to join the rest of their climbing group in their revelry. "She's a friend from home."

"Really?" Milo sounds genuinely surprised. "District 12?"

Gale nods and sits down on the step next to Milo, aware because of their early morning climbing routine that Milo is just as much of a morning person as Gale and won't be going back to sleep, regardless of his possible hangover or his guest. "I thought she died in the bombing, but she didn't."

Milo gives a low whistle. "You don't hear many stories like that." His mouth curls into an expression of distaste as he watches Zipper slobbering all over the jeep's windows. "She must be pretty important if you're putting up with that thing."

Gale grimaces at the truth of that statement. "I screwed things up with her."

"Shocking," Milo mutters. "So you're on dog duty now?"

"Something like that. If I can wear him out, maybe I won't strangle him. I can't take him to the recreation area. Obviously."

Milo shakes his head in commiseration as they watch Zipper do some kind of spinning move in the backseat of the jeep. The patrons of the district's recreation area tend to be uptight about things like staying on trails and keeping dogs on leashes. Gale suspects Zipper would face more than a few death threats.

"Good luck with that," Milo says as he hands several maps to Gale. "I need these back by Sunday night. We're leaving on another trip on Monday."

Gale nods, opening the maps, which are only partially filled in. Still, they're more useful than the official maps published by the district and at least include names for some the roads. "Thanks, these look good… I can't get over how terrible the government's maps are."

"The mapping company had a sweetheart contract with the district, from what I heard," Milo says in a disgusted tone. "They collected the money and published the maps, but never got off their asses to ground truth anything. Good riddance. This new outfit seems better so far."

"So it's going well?"

"Sure," Milo says with a shrug. "Pay's better than the Bomb Squad was. I'm glad I found this gig once we finished all the sweeping." He reaches for one of the maps and points to the legend. "We're adding a geologic inventory to the maps. That's what I help with, as the resident Block Head." He grins, using what Gale recognizes as quarry slang. Milo knows all the rock types and combinations and characteristics; it's impressive although Gale would never tell him that.

"There was an explosion on the new road between 2 and 3 yesterday," Gale says when he notices this new map includes that road. "Know anything about it?"

"On the _new_ road?" Milo says pointedly. "The road that _didn't exist_ during the war when the Peacekeepers were leaving all their little souvenirs?"

"Exactly," Gale says darkly. "I hope they catch whoever did it." The idea of anyone setting off bombs on civilian roads when the war has been over for months is nauseating. Then he shakes off his frustration and stands to leave. "Have fun explaining your disease to Cornelia."

"How did you know she—" Milo looks embarrassed that Gale guessed who's still sleeping inside his house. She's one of the regulars at the quarry. "Are we that obvious?"

Gale raises his eyebrows in confirmation and Milo punches his arm—not lightly, either.

"Next time, keep your medical opinions to yourself, Doc."

Gale almost smiles, but then he looks back at the car and sighs heavily when he sees Zipper, remembering what's in store for him.

#

Selecting the most complete of Milo's maps, Gale drives to the end point of one of the roads that extends just beyond the district's old border. Even with the map, he'll be relying primarily on his compass and observation skills to keep him from getting lost, and he finds himself looking forward to the challenge. The scent of the pine trees and fresh soil combine with the gentle hum of insects and rustling leaves to help him feel calmer and more optimistic. He's even entertained rather than annoyed at how recklessly exuberant Zipper is. They quickly develop a routine in which Zipper runs off and periodically returns to Gale, which means Zipper is covering about 5 times as much ground as Gale and should be wiped out by the end of the day.

Gale spots a few birds he's never seen before and itches to shoot them with a bow and arrow, but he doesn't have a set and anyway Zipper is so loud that the birds, and probably other animals, can hear them coming well in advance. It's just as well; he doesn't need to hunt for food anymore and hunting reminds him of Katniss. He'd been putting off exploring these forests as a way to avoid thinking about her, but now that he's here he finds that the plants and animals and terrain are so different that he spends most of his mental energy studying everything, wishing he had names for all the unfamiliar species.

He eats lunch on a large rock outcropping looking out over a valley and makes notes about the terrain on his own map, pausing occasionally to give Zipper scraps for correctly obeying the commands he's trying to teach him. As he tosses a breadcrumb toward Zipper, he's hit with an intense pang of missing Katniss. One glance and she'd know exactly what he was thinking—just how absurd it is to be feeding _bread_ to a _dog_.

But this is his new life, and he must really be losing it because when he looks at Zipper he's reminded of the same intensity of trust and adoration in Rory and Vick's eyes when he taught them how to play cinder ball or advised them on the best way to avoid the bullies from town during recess… It's for the best that he's not influencing them anymore, though. Zipper only trusts him because he's a dog and doesn't know any better. Rory, especially, has plenty of reasons to hate Gale...

"Let's go, Zipper," Gale sighs, resigned to the fact that he's terrible but that he can't hate this stupid dog anymore. He decides to cut over the next ridge for a shortcut back to the road where he parked the car. Everything is going fine until he hears high-pitched yipping—Zipper in distress. Crashing through the trees, Gale discovers the idiot dog holding one of his front paws in the air while standing next to a large pool of discolored, yellow and orange water lined with partially submerged mouse corpses.

"Get back," he orders. Zipper hears him and limps toward Gale, whimpering pitifully. Gale kneels to examine the injured paw: some of the skin is inflamed, but the little rascal should be all right. He pushes back the panic that he'd wrecked another family. Zipper is a dog, but Madge's aunt and uncle clearly dote on him and Gale's relieved he won't have to give them any news worse than that Zipper suffered an acid burn. Because this foul water is definitely acidic runoff draining from the boarded-up gash in the adjacent rock wall, which has the look of a former mine entrance. It's not on the map, but that's not surprising.

The more interesting fact is that there are several human footprints in the soft earth near the runoff, suggesting someone else has been here recently. _Jerks_, Gale thinks to himself, for seeing this hazard and not covering up the acid pool. All it would take are some large branches to block access, which he can easily do once he takes care of Zipper.

He's aware, as he bandages Zipper's paw, of the irony that the last time he performed first aid on an injured limb was when Madge got leash burn from Zipper himself. For a few seconds, he indulges in imagining what life might be like if she still likes him after he's made up for the way he pushed her away and let her down, and once she knows the truth about him… But it's probably too much to hope for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Chapter title courtesy of the TV show _The Dog Whisperer_. This was a bit of a slower chapter to set up some plot and character stuff that leads into the next chapter. But yay progress: Gale is making friends! (Human and canine!) Madge will be in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, everyone!


	9. Loyalty

**Chapter 9: Loyalty**

The loyalty hearings are being held in the Capitol's largest courtroom, a cold and intimidating vault of marble pillars that Madge recognizes from the television coverage of Katniss' trial and the trials of the highest-ranking Capitol officials. She didn't miss a second of any of the trials—Katniss' because she was so worried and confused about her friend, and the Capitol trials because the evidence she and Simon had collected was so crucial to proving the charges.

After enduring a frisking in the security line, she winds her way through the audience to where Simon is sitting in the shadow of one of the grand columns. He shoots her a small, grateful smile as she slides into the bench next to him.

"Have you seen him yet?" she asks before he can give her any grief about being later than she promised. He's been increasingly vocal about her morning lethargy since she got back from her trip with Perri a few days ago and she doesn't want to hear any more comments about how the trip sure didn't convert her into a morning person.

He shakes his head. "Saw his lawyer, though."

"This is such a farce," she mutters quietly. Unnecessarily; she and Simon are of one mind regarding the pointless spectacle of the loyalty hearings. Obviously no one would be suicidal enough to testify that they're loyal to Snow or his ideals. Simon's brother Edwin, like most of the other lower- and mid-level former Capitol officers testifying today, certainly isn't that stupid.

Madge starts scanning of the room, populated with the typical mix of former rebels and former Capitol types watching one another with thinly veiled hostility. It's still easy to identify Capitol vs. rebel based on clothing style, although the lines are beginning to blur. Madge herself is trying to fit into both worlds with her navy skirt suit that's better tailored than anything most of the former district residents have access to, though it's plain by Capitol standards. Blending into the background is crucial for her. She slips a pair of fake tortoise shell eyeglasses over the bridge of her nose. They make her marginally less recognizable, but she mostly likes them because she thinks they make her look smart.

She watches as the senior members of President Paylor's cabinet shuffle papers and rearrange chairs at a table facing the witness box where the subjects will give their testimony. Journalists are jostling in the press box for the best locations for their equipment. These hearings are being televised but Madge wanted to attend in person to support Simon, who's anxious about his brother's participation. Worrying about Simon has occupied most of her energy since returning from the trip.

When Simon sits up a little straighter, Madge follows his eye line and sees that his brother Edwin has arrived, wearing a deliberately drab, non-Capitol suit. Edwin walks over to the seating area for subjects and sits next to another man in a dark suit, who must be his lawyer.

In her peripheral vision, Madge notices a familiar dark head enter the room and search for a seat as close to the back row as possible. Gale. Madge hasn't seen him since returning from her trip, though why would she—he rejected her. She's surprised to see him, though—Perri said most of the Reconstruction Committee members were planning to watch the broadcast instead of attending in person since they had so much other work to do and no formal role in this proceeding. Madge also assumed that Gale wouldn't voluntarily return to this courtroom, not after what he went through during Katniss' trial.

Gale finds a seat in the viewing platform directly across from Madge and Simon. His eyes find hers within seconds and Madge holds his gaze for as long as she can keep her face from betraying anything—he's a magnet for photographers and she needs to maintain a low profile. But she feels flustered and her heart is thumping loudly, probably from angry anxiety. She understands now why he didn't want to go back to 12 and that he was probably pushing her away out of some warped sense of guilt, but understanding that and reconciling how angry she is at him for being so heartless to her is another story.

In an attempt to ignore Gale's laser stare, Madge shifts in her seat toward Simon so she can watch the witness stand and soon the spectacle is underway. Several former Capitol officials testify before Edwin does, each claiming the utmost loyalty to the values of the new government: openness and opportunity and fair treatment of all citizens.

When Edwin is called, Madge feels Simon's muscles tighten. She squeezes his hand softly so he knows he isn't alone and listens as Edwin begins to speak. She thinks he comes off pretty well. In addition to the usual fervent assurances of loyalty, he backs his claims up with actions: he's invested heavily in a new program that partners investors in the Capitol with people in the districts to start companies.

"The idea is to first of all increase business activity in the districts," he explains calmly. Madge is highly aware that most of the money in the country is still concentrated in the Capitol and that the imbalance is a continuing source of political tension. "And secondly, to increase trust so people on both sides feel like we're all in this endeavor to rebuild together."

"He sounds good," Madge whispers quietly to Simon.

He nods tightly. She understands his caution; they're both skeptical of everything until they can confirm it in their own way. Which they'll start looking into as soon as the hearings are over.

Paylor's Chief of Staff pulls a microphone closer to his jowls. "According to the briefing materials, you and your partners will be re-opening one of the former quarries in District 2."

"Yes, that's correct. The Hyland Village Quarry." Madge feels her head jolt up; Simon's brother is going to re-open _her family's_ old quarry? Simon hasn't reacted so she can't tell if he knew or not. "The quarry has been inactive for several years," Edwin continues, "but as I'm sure you're all aware, demand for building materials, particularly stone, is unmet. My partners and I want to do what we can to help rebuild after all the destruction. And provide employment for citizens at the same time."

The magic word: jobs. Madge notices several of the Cabinet members nodding approvingly and she feels Simon relax slightly; his brother is nailing this hearing.

"Did you know about the quarry?" Madge whispers.

He shakes his head distractedly, still trying to listen to Edwin's concluding remarks.

"That's the old quarry in my grandfather's village," Madge persists.

That gets his attention and he turns to frown at her. "Maybe that's why he didn't tell me. We'll look into it, OK?"

She nods, uneasy about what they would do if they discovered something sketchy about Edwin…

A few more people testify, and then the hearing adjourns for a lunch break. Madge deliberately avoids looking in Gale's direction—she tells herself it's because they're just people who used to know each other so what does she care what he does—but she's also frustrated that he still has such an effect on her. When Simon tells her he's going to talk to Edwin, she decides to slip back to their office to start checking on some of the facts being claimed. Particularly this news about Edwin re-opening the quarry. In light of her family's tense history with Simon's family and Edwin's obvious dislike of her, she's suspicious. And unlike Simon, she's not interested in giving Edwin the benefit of the doubt.

As soon as she clears the doorway leading out of the courtroom, she spots Gale leaning against the hallway wall right in front of her, hands in his pockets and focused on the door. When he sees her he pushes off the wall and Madge watches warily as he approaches.

"Hi," he says quietly, ignoring the bustling of other exiting attendees and studying her face closely. He's wearing his uniform and looks official, like he does when he's on TV. It's momentarily disorienting to hear the tentativeness in his voice, a contrast to how decisive and cutting he is during the televised press briefings.

"Hi." She feels some of her awkwardness and anger fading microscopically as she takes in the concern in his eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you. Perri thought you'd be here. Do you have time to grab lunch before the afternoon session?"

Madge is so surprised she doesn't respond right away. "I can't. I need to check on some things right now."

"What about afterward?" Gale takes a step closer. "I want to talk to you."

He actually _wants_ to talk now? After she pressed him to talk and he rejected her in the District 2 square like one of those girls the tabloids show following him around? Madge realizes with a sickening twist what changed: she saw Katniss. She has fresh information about Katniss and that's why he suddenly wants to talk.

It's intolerable. She feels her heart starting to pound with outrage again and focuses all that hostility at Gale. "So you conveniently change your mind about never wanting to see me again when I have information you want?"

"What? What information?"

"Aren't you going to ask me how Katniss is?" she demands.

He blinks and opens his mouth but no words come out. Obviously he's surprised Madge figured out his real reason for wanting to talk to her.

"She's not great," she snaps, answering her own question when Gale takes too long to respond. "She's not Katniss anymore and District 12 isn't District 12 anymore. It's a graveyard. I don't know how anyone could live in those ashes and ruins and—"

She chokes and starts tearing up, the buried memories of that night of fire and explosions mingling with the more recent memories of ashes sticking to her hot, sweaty skin and unending grayness and pain. She doesn't care if it makes Gale feel bad to hear that Katniss is a mess; _Madge_ is a mess and nobody aside from her aunt and uncle and Simon even care. Gale's concern for her will always be secondary to whatever hold Katniss has on him from District 12.

"Madge," Gale says urgently as he reaches for her arm, but she twists away from him.

"Don't _touch_ me," she hisses, all her feelings of betrayal and abandonment over the past few weeks boiling over. He went from kissing her like she was essential to changing his mind and not even telling her until she cornered him like a stalker. She's also infuriated at herself for being so stupid to think she could ever be important to him, for giving up her top security clearance so she could see him.

Ignoring the hurt in his eyes at her reaction, Madge spins and weaves through the crowds of people in the corridor in search of the nearest exit so she can escape before the tears break loose; sobbing in the hallways of the courthouse would draw unwanted attention. Spotting a stairwell, she ducks inside and descends one flight to an exit that leads her into an alley filled with the pungent odor of rotting garbage. From there she trudges the few blocks to the building that houses the nondescript but highly secured office for Covert Intelligence.

After she passes the retina scan, the security guard waves her through to the keycard access point and she enters the vacant office. Everyone else on the team is either embedded in districts or observing the loyalty hearings live. Madge flips on the television so she'll know when the hearings are resuming and sits down at one of the networked computer terminals.

Her hands are shaking and she squeezes her eyes closed in an attempt to block out Gale's face. Why did making him feel bad leave her feeling even worse than before? When she opens her eyes again, she logs into the program, intending to start running searches to verify some of the stories that had been testified to during the morning session.

Instead, her fingers start a search on Gale. She resisted the temptation before—it felt like cheating—but there's no game and even if there were, it's over. The standard searches don't reveal anything she didn't already know: former miner, hero of District 12, right-hand man to the Mockingjay, key witness during Katniss' trial, one of the military representatives on the Reconstruction Committee… Practically nonexistent financial assets, although she learns he has a recurring transfer to an account in District 13, which is what she'd expect since it's obviously how he sends money to his family.

What she _wants_ is access to his military file so she can read about the weapons he developed, and access to the war records to sort out who ordered that that horrible bomb be used against children and medical personnel. Haymitch had said that even though it looked like the Capitol had been responsible for the bomb, he and Gale suspected Coin had been behind it. Gale had told Haymitch that he'd developed a similar bomb, although the last he knew it was only a conceptual sketch in a workshop in 13. Then he had been deployed to District 2 and didn't think about it again until he saw the television footage. Haymitch had said Gale blamed himself and rejected all explanations otherwise, so Madge thought if she could prove for sure that the Capitol dropped the bomb then Gale might feel incrementally better...

But since she downgraded her security status she doesn't have access to the military files anymore, which just confirms that she should have trusted her instincts and stayed under deeper cover. These complications with Gale and having to visit the remnants of District 12 are all she's been rewarded with since downgrading and becoming Madge Undersee again. Sylvia Wells and all the other identities she's temporarily adopted in the districts don't have to deal with any of this pain.

She sends Simon a message on her communicuff asking if he minds if she watches the rest of the hearings from the office so she can start on the investigations. It's only half true; she doesn't want to encounter Gale again. Too late she realizes that she's doing what Gale did to her—abandoning an innocent friend in a time of need! She's in the process of typing out '_Nevermind_' to Simon when his incoming message arrives: '_Good idea. Visiting mom with Ed for dinner after this. See you later._'

His message leaves her feeling even lonelier. She's never met Simon's mother and is unlikely to, given their family histories. His mother still blames Madge's father for her arrest, imprisonment, and decline in status, and Madge's father's death hasn't erased any of that resentment. Madge will gladly avoid interacting with someone that toxic, but it's hard to be excluded from an important part of Simon's life. As if to make sure Madge understands that she's not a top priority, the broadcast resumes with a camera pan of the audience so she can see that Edwin has taken her seat next to Simon.

She also notices that Gale isn't where he was sitting earlier. Did he leave already? After making the trek from District 2? Is it possible he only came so he could see her? She never gave him a phone number where he could reach her so maybe this was the only way he could talk to her…

_No, stop it_, she tells herself. This is the same set of delusions that led to this hollow feeling inside her chest and that matches this empty office. She shakes her head and turns back to the computer terminal. Her father threw himself into his work when things felt too far out of his control, and Madge is starting to see the appeal of that approach.

#

Madge wakes up to the sound of the blender, whirring angrily through ice chunks. Simon's not-so-subtle hint that she should wake up: he's making one of his protein-vegetable-vitamin shakes for breakfast. They're an abomination against taste buds. She scrunches deeper under the blanket.

"I see you moving over there, Madgelet," he calls from the kitchen. "Get up, busy day. We have to check on all our buddies who testified yesterday." He presses the button on the blender a few more times to annoy her into waking up.

Her head is killing her. The pills she's been taking to help her sleep leave her feeling like hell in the mornings, but she can't let Simon know that. Luckily he buys the general morning crankiness explanation. She reluctantly sits up and walks gingerly toward the kitchen in the hopes of deterring him from making more blender noises.

"I was surprised to see you here when I got home last night." Simon hands her a cup of coffee when she slides onto her favorite stool. She gratefully clutches the mug with both hands and inhales the comforting aroma while waiting for it to cool. Of course she ended up sleeping on his couch again; she can barely stand to spend 5 minutes in her cold, empty apartment, especially not after a day like yesterday. "Guess the war hero dragged himself back to District 2 for the night."

She shrugs. She has no idea where Gale went or when.

Simon pauses while pouring the greenish gray liquid from the blender into a tall glass. She suspects this is his seaweed blend, which means she'll be having toast for breakfast, thank you very much.

"You both snuck off during the afternoon session. I figured you went to your apartment." A look of horror crosses his face. "You guys didn't come here, did you? You know, I think you forget you don't actually live here. You have all that lovely space across the hall, feel free to use it."

Madge ignores the comment; he's always threatening to take back his extra key. "We didn't go anywhere. He just wanted to know about Katniss." She feels her anger reawakening, partly fueled by her morning edginess. "I still don't matter to him. I was so stupid for thinking things would be different—"

Simon sighs impatiently and sets down his disgusting shake. "You matter. You should have seen him when I told him you fainted in 12."

Madge's head jerks up. "When did you talk to him? Simon, I told you we can't use him for his access to the committee members, it's not right—"

Simon holds up a hand to cut her off. "I didn't ask him anything about the committee. I just pointed out what a shitty boyfriend he is and suggested he shape up. I thought it was a good sign that he turned up here, but now it seems like you scared him off. If that's what you want, fine. But stop acting like you don't care about him if you do. It's almost as annoying as when he gets jealous of me after he dumped you. I practically needed body armor against his glaring during the hearing yesterday."

"He didn't dump me because he was never my boyfriend," Madge corrects.

"Whatever, they're just words. You guys act like a couple even when you're broken up. A dysfunctional couple. Wouldn't you rather do the fun couple stuff?"

Madge glares at Simon, irritated that he apparently harassed Gale while she was gone. But the news does make it seem like Gale approaching her in the hallway was more of an overture to reconnect than him attempting to get an update on Katniss. In fact, she realizes, he didn't actually ask about Katniss… Madge assumed. And she was so riled up that she did probably scare him off… She stares sadly at the steam still rising from her coffee, uncomfortable at how easily she comes unhinged lately. Her father's methods for coping haven't been helping, and it seems like her mother's methods aren't much better.

Simon starts cleaning out the blender, so she takes the opportunity to change the subject. "So. The quarry."

He looks up and sounds defensive. "I didn't know anything about it. He said a friend introduced him to the former manager and everything just worked out recently."

"I looked into it yesterday," Madge says. "Everything I could find checked out."

Simon looks surprised and hopeful. "That's good," he says cautiously. "It's not like your aunt and uncle were going to try to re-open the quarry, were they?"

Madge shakes her head as she takes a sip of coffee. But she can tell from Simon's expression that he's just as aware as she is that a Capitol insider like Edwin would know how best to make his endeavor appear legitimate even if it isn't.

#

The Reconstruction Committee is busier than ever now that all its members and delegates are back from the district trips. Everyone has stories of hope and despair to share, and there's a contagious, renewed energy to their efforts on behalf of the committee, which Gale appreciates for letting him work so much that he doesn't have time to think about the shambles of his life. So he doesn't have to remember that expression on Madge's face when she told him not to touch her. Expecting it and knowing he deserved it didn't make it any easier to experience. Not from one of the few people who has only ever looked at him with kindness and understanding.

He isn't sure what to make of Perri these days. She's never seemed to like him, and now that Madge hates him he feels more awkward than ever around her. But since returning from the trip she's been cordial, telling him Madge would probably be at the loyalty hearings and thanking him for watching Zipper. She even said she was looking forward to working with him on the ethics and justice subcommittee, which she's been elected to chair.

Their first meeting is today, and Perri starts it off with a brainstorming session about the topics they think should be addressed. "Our mission overlaps with the decisions on restructuring the government," Perri explains to the rest of the subcommittee members. "For example," she says as she starts writing on the whiteboard, "I believe our first order of business should be ensuring an independent judiciary."

To Gale's relief, somebody else asks her to translate what that means.

"It means having judges who aren't subject to political pressure or coercion. The total absence of fair hearings was one of the most troubling aspects of the Snow dictatorship." She pauses and swallows, her usual steely composure slipping slightly for the first time Gale can recall.

He waits for her to elaborate, remembering how Simon implied she had a dark past like the others, but the moment passes and she quickly continues the brainstorming session. Once they have a list, she passes around a stack of papers to everyone.

"Some background reading will be helpful," Perri explains, sounding very much like an optimistic teacher assigning homework on the assumption that all the students are as excited to learn about this material as she is to teach it. Gale usually ignored his homework in District 12, but this stuff seems like it actually matters.

"We all saw examples of ethical dilemmas on our recent travels," Perri continues as people pass the papers around. "And we all lived through the war, so please bring your thoughts and ideas based on those experiences to our discussions. Luckily, we even have a soldier to guide us through some of the knottiest issues related to warfare." She looks over at Gale and smiles tightly. He shifts nervously in his seat. He joined this subcommittee to learn from it, not to teach others. The country would probably devolve into endless revenge slayings if he were in charge…

"For example, my niece was asking me recently about the ethics of weapons development," Perri says. Gale feels a chill shoot through his spine. "Should there be limits on the types of weapons we create? Is the more important question how they're used? What qualifies as a weapon? I would argue that the Hunger Games themselves were a weapon of oppression, but does that mean the engineers who designed the arenas have some culpability? Does it matter what they were designing? Is there a difference between the force fields that trapped the tributes and the actual devices that killed them? Why or why not?"

Gale grips the sides of his table so tightly his fingers start to ache. Does Madge know? Is that why she couldn't even stand him touching her? She's a _spy_, she could have figured it out somehow. Ever since he's known her, she's been sneaking around, listening at doors back home in District 12 and breaking into computer systems… And now she's a professional with access to who knows what… He should have talked to her sooner; he should have known she would figure it out.

Perri moves on to talk about punishments and sentencing for crimes, which Gale cares about but is preoccupied with the overwhelming urge to bolt from this room. Where could he go, though? The dark loneliness of his apartment? Outside the district? In District 12 he could conquer this feeling by sliding under the fence, but his problem now is that he wants to get away from _himself_.

He notices people pushing their chairs back from the tables. The meeting must be over. He hastily shoves his ethics homework into his briefcase and doesn't make eye contact with anyone, positive they can see how evil and unethical he is. It doesn't matter if Simon implied everyone else had their own demons; he has to be concerned with his own failings and inner darkness and—

"Gale?" He looks up and sees Perri gazing at him through her owlish glasses. "Are you all right?"

He's so far from all right he can't even answer the question—there isn't enough oxygen in this damn room. But he manages a nod and hopes she'll leave him alone.

Perri frowns and doesn't seem inclined to go away. "You know, you more than the others might have a harder time with some of the issues because of what you must have witnessed as a soldier during the war. I may not… I'm not always good at noticing other people's discomfort, but please let me know if there's anything I can do…"

Is she being nice to him? Gale's so confused he can't respond.

"Dusty's picking me up, why don't you walk out with me and say hello," Perri suggests, and Gale can't think of any coherent reason to decline so he mutely walks alongside her.

"Gale," Perri says as she takes a breath, "I wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time about not going back to District 12. I hadn't realized how devastating it would be for someone who'd grown up there to see the ruins… When Madge reacted so badly, I felt like it was my fault. You know best what you need and it wasn't my place to judge."

"I should have been there for her sake," he says, finally confessing to someone, even if it's not the right person.

"The rebuilding is coming along nicely," Perri says cautiously. "The cleanup is nearly complete and they're laying the foundation for some of the buildings. Maybe when the wounds aren't so fresh you and Madge can visit again."

Probably not, since he and Madge won't be doing anything together. But he hides his pessimism by opening the front door so they can exit.

"Oh, there he is," Perri says, smiling as she waves at Dusty, who's standing with a mirroring smile at the bottom of the stairs in the same spot Madge waited for Gale weeks ago right before he wrecked everything with her.

Dusty isn't alone—Zipper lunges forward when he sees Perri and Gale, and Dusty releases him. Zipper races up the stairs and hurls himself at Gale, bouncing excitedly and whimpering. Gale tries to tackle Zipper into submission, but the dog keeps wriggling and trying to lick his face. It's disgusting but endearing at the same time and Gale ends up with his arms around Zipper. To his horror, he feels tears filling his eyes. This dog is so excited to see him it's practically having a fit, and the scene reminds him of when he and Rory used to tackle their dad when he came home from his shifts. If they could knock him over it meant they could wrestle until their mom yelled at them to stop.

He ducks his head to hide that he's crying and murmurs soothing sounds to Zipper, the same way he used to calm the animals he and Katniss shot in an attempt to ease their transition into death. But now he mostly needs Zipper to help hide his strange reaction.

When he looks up again, he sees Dusty and Perri standing with their arms around each other, watching him. He hopes his eyes aren't too obviously watery; he must be absolutely pitiful, crying over a dog's energetic greeting.

"Gale, good to see you," Dusty says with his typical warm smile.

"You too," Gale mumbles.

Dusty glances at Perri for a second, and when she gives him a tiny nod he speaks again. "Looks like Zipper missed you." He laughs lightly. "I don't suppose we could convince you to take him for a few days? Give us a break?"

Zipper hears his name and immediately squirms to get out of Gale's arms, but Gale clamps down on him. "_Stay_."

He feels Zipper tense but stop moving. Gale looks up in surprise at Dusty, who laughs. "He's getting better. I think he needs another round of your doggie boot camp sessions, though."

"I guess I could do that," Gale agrees. He suspects Dusty and Perri don't actually enforce the training as much as Zipper needs. Zipper could probably do with some discipline in his life. And Gale can duck back home during his lunch break to take the little terror on a walk so he won't be as hyper by the end of the day.

"Thank you, Gale," Perri says with a smile. "It's a real help."

Gale scratches Zipper's ears, aware that Perri thinks Zipper might help _him_, and finding that he doesn't mind.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It suffered from the unfortunate combination of me having to move some plot stuff around and not having much writing time right when I most needed it. Thanks for being patient. :)


	10. Summer Thaw

**Chapter 10: Summer Thaw**

"Here's my latest inventory," Perri tells Madge, passing a thick folder of papers across the kitchen table. "The caretaker will be expecting you. But are you sure this is how you want to spend your time off? It's tedious."

"What else am I going to do?" Madge viciously stabs a strawberry in her cereal bowl. "It's not like I can take Zipper on a walk." Since he appears to be on semi-permanent loan to Gale.

"We can ask Gale to bring him back if you'd like," Dusty offers, walking into the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee.

"No, it's fine. I'll work on the inventory." Madge hastily drops the Zipper issue, which strays dangerously close to the Gale issue. She suspects her aunt and uncle have figured out that all is not well on the Gale front; her surprise at learning about Zipper's extended stay with Gale and her refusal to respond with anything more than non-committal noises when his name surfaces in conversations say what she hasn't.

She also hasn't told them that her "time off from work" is not voluntary. They know not to ask many questions about her job, and when she called last week from the District 2 train station asking if she could stay with them for a few days, all Dusty said was that he was on his way to pick her up. She slept a lot when she first arrived, trying to recalibrate her body, but she's feeling better to the point of restlessness now. So she proposed that while Dusty and Perri were at work today, she could go to her grandparents' old house to work on the inventory of items Perri thinks were wrongfully seized from their family. The list is necessary for some kind of tedious claims process and Perri is fired up to get back the rugs, paintings, vases and other furnishings she says are theirs.

What Madge really intends to do is investigate Simon's brother's plan to re-open the old quarry. She's hoping to find records in the mansion, now that the government uses it for meetings and whatever else. Even though none of her electronic searches showed anything unusual about the deal, she _knows_ something is suspicious about it. And Simon isn't looking closely enough because he wants too badly to believe his brother is reforming, which has become a sticky point between him and Madge. She thinks it's part of why he put her on involuntary temporary leave, despite his insistence that it was for her own good so she could 'relax' and 'be with her family' and 'stop taking those damn pills.'

"Call either of us if you need anything," Perri offers. "I'm in meetings most of the day, but just tell them you need to speak to me—"

"I'll be fine," Madge cuts in, sitting up straighter in her chair so she looks less like a surly brat. "I'll see you tonight."

"Take care, Madge," Dusty says as he herds Perri out the door. After they leave, Madge sits in the kitchen by herself for a few minutes and listens to the distant sounds of the neighbors starting their day, feeling once again like she doesn't truly belong anywhere. As frustrated as she is with Simon's reaction (overreaction!) to discovering her stash of pills and his willful blindness about his brother, she misses him. She won't speak to him when he calls to check on her, but she does miss their routines and that comforting awareness that he saw things the same way she did and would always be on her side.

Eventually Madge clears the breakfast plates, packs a few things into her backpack, and walks over to the mansion in the middle of the village. It's a sunny summer day and the mountains are looming over the horizon, standing watch over the district. The idea that anyone can explore them, instead of being restrained by fences, is still novel and a little exciting. She wonders if she could get Dusty and Perri to take her to the recreation area for a hike this weekend, although the idea leaves her vaguely sad as a reminder of something she and Gale were supposed to do together.

The caretaker lets her inside the house and sets her up in the study after she explains that she wants to check her aunt's list of family books against the books still on the shelves to be sure nothing is missing. But as soon as she hears him retreating down the stairs she pulls her kit out of the backpack and picks the desk's lock.

The desk is a bust: nothing interesting about the quarry. She moves on to the filing cabinet, but doesn't find anything useful there, either. Everything is too old to be relevant. Looking out the window in the direction of the quarry, she notices a small building at the top of the downward sloping road that leads to the valley just outside the town where the quarry is located. Maybe that building is associated with the quarry… She makes some token progress on Perri's inventory list but keeps an eye on the building. When a couple of hours pass without anybody entering or exiting it, Madge packs up her backpack and walks over.

Rock slabs near the front door and a weathered 'Hyland Quarry' sign dangling from a nail confirm that the building is indeed related to the quarry. Unfortunately, people are inside, which will seriously limit the investigating Madge can do. She knocks anyway.

A broad-shouldered man wearing a tan worksuit uniform opens the door. "You lost?" he asks, bushy salt and pepper eyebrows arching suspiciously. "Town's the other direction."

Madge launches into her conveniently true cover story. "My grandfather was the village magistrate before the quarry closed. I thought maybe I could find someone here who knew him… I grew up in another district and was hoping to learn more about him…"

"Sorry. Didn't know him."

"Oh." Madge looks behind him into the building at the enticingly messy pile of papers on the counter. "So is the quarry re-opening?"

The man nods. "Soon as we can."

"Are you the new owner?"

"You could say that." He moves to close the door. "Try asking around in town."

Madge smiles pleasantly, though inwardly she wants to kick this guy for being here _and_ for not being talkative. "Sorry to bother you."

The door shuts nearly on her face, leaving her at a loss as to what to try next. She gazes into the valley below at the quarry, a vast cliff face with ragged chunks carved out, the scars of harvested rock still obvious even after a multi-year closure. Rubble and debris clutter the ground below the cliff, although several bulldozers are attempting to impose order by piling the loose rocks off to the sides. Madge watches the machines for a few minutes before concluding that any further venturing would be foolish: there are 'no trespassing' and 'hardhats required' signs every few feet along the road.

Dejected, she returns to the mansion and quietly sets up to do more inventory work in the living room. Her thoughts are elsewhere, though. Maybe she's been wrong to assume that Simon's brother has malicious plans. Is it possible she's jealous that she's no longer the most important person in Simon's life, the way she was during the war? Obviously she can't compare to a real sibling… Maybe Edwin's sliminess is limited to being a smarmy jerk; he might only be targeting the former Undersee quarry out of a sense of poetic justice to triumph against the hardship Madge's father caused his family. Because somebody else buying the quarry poses no actual harm to her family… Their only tenuous links to the quarry are through the few disputed furnishings in this mansion.

And these furnishings are really not holding her attention. Around midday, she tells the caretaker that she's done and leaves to start walking back to her aunt and uncle's house. Maybe she can read more of Perri's books to pass the time until they come home for dinner. As she walks, she notices with interest that someone is standing outside the quarry office, speaking to the same unhelpful, bushy-eyebrow-plagued man she had encountered earlier.

She doesn't make the connection that the figure is Gale until she spots the black and white canine torpedo careening up the hill toward her, barking excitedly. Madge barely has time to register Gale swiveling in her direction before Zipper launches himself into the air and nearly knocks her over.

She can't help but laugh at the spectacle Zipper is making as he greets her and tries to get him to calm down, but he's working himself into a frothing frenzy.

"_Zipper. Off._" Gale's stern voice travels up the hill and Madge looks up to see him approaching. Shockingly, Zipper stops trying to jump on her and turns to watch Gale, wagging his tail like Gale is the best treat imaginable. "_Sit_," Gale orders when he's closer, prompting Zipper to quickly connect his rump to the ground, still watching Gale expectantly.

"He did what you said," Madge says in disbelief.

Gale stops a few feet away from her, guarded. He's wearing street clothes rather than his uniform and almost looks like the Gale she remembers from home. Especially because he seems unsure of how to react to her, which was all too common before they became friends.

"We've been working on commands." He squints at Madge as though he can't believe she's standing in front of him. "Madge, what are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Working."

"Perri said there were meetings today."

"_Perri_ has meetings today. But I'm not on the education sub-committee like she is." Gale seems surprised at her interrogation, and glances at her backpack. "Do you work in District 2 now?"

Behind Gale she can see the quarry man looking up the pathway in their direction, which reminds her that they're standing in the open where anyone can see them and that people probably are actually looking since Gale is so well-known. She pulls her sunhat out of her backpack and slides it on, hoping its broad rim hides her features enough that she won't be identified as anyone other than one of the anonymous groupies the tabloids show following Gale around until he invariably lashes out at them.

"I'm taking some time off from work," Madge says in a less confrontational tone. "I was doing some family stuff for Perri at my grandparents' old house. Remember when we all came here before to—"

No, he wouldn't remember when she and Dusty and Perri visited the house the day after she found him again because he didn't show up. And she had naïvely believed his story that he was busy with another commitment rather than figuring out that he was busy not liking her anymore. "I guess you wouldn't remember," she amends awkwardly. "Perri thinks some of the things in the house belong to our family, but there are these lists and they don't match up and… Well, it's confusing." Mostly because Madge hasn't bothered to learn what the dispute is and doesn't particularly care.

Gale looks queasy, as though he ate something rotten. He shifts the stack of papers he's holding from one hand to the other and says quietly, "I know it's too late, Madge, but I'm sorry I didn't come with you to see the house that day. And I'm even sorrier I didn't tell you why I couldn't go to 12 with you."

Madge lets her eyes fall to Zipper, who's sitting between them, head twisting back and forth attentively in case one of them suddenly starts a game. It helps to hear Gale apologize, but she notices he didn't say he would have gone with her to District 12, just that he wishes he'd explained why he wouldn't, clarifying that she's still only a secondary concern for him. The knowledge is like a fresh hit to a still-tender wound, but does it really mean she doesn't want him in her life at all? Maybe she needs to adjust her expectations: if she knows not to expect more than whatever limited friendly feelings he has for her, then her hopes can't be crushed and she won't do things like yell in hallways when he talks to her. Managing her expectations was how she always fought disappointment when she was growing up… Assuming her father would work late and that her mother would be sleeping off a headache meant that if she did actually get to see both of them for dinner it was a special occasion.

And if Gale's blaming himself for Katniss' sister's death and for Katniss and Peeta being burned so badly because of that bomb he may have designed, he's grappling with some pretty intense guilt. Which may not even be warranted. No matter what else, they were friends once upon a time and he's from home and is the best person she knows; she can't cut him out of her life. Maybe she can even help him by being a friend. So she takes a deep breath and says what she's been thinking about since the last time she saw him.

"Gale, I'm sorry I acted so weird at the loyalty hearings. I was under a lot of stress and I was mad at you even though I had no right to be, and I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You were right to be angry and it _was_ my fault. Everything is my fault."

Madge meets his eyes. "That's not true. And blaming yourself for more than you should isn't helping anything."

She can see his internal struggle between wanting to contradict her and wanting to believe her, and feels a growing uneasiness that he's about to make one of his sweeping accusations about how she just doesn't understand. Maybe she doesn't—he's always been so cryptic and mysterious about Katniss—but this is too public a venue for a big emotional discussion and she doesn't want to let him stake out a position on these topics that she'll have to fight him on later, or for him to be 'scared off' again as Simon put it. Before he can speak again, she decides to distract him into safer territory with a change of subject.

"We don't have to talk about it." Not right now, at least. She gestures toward the building behind him. "So were you talking to them about re-opening quarry?"

Gale hesitates momentarily, but then seems grateful to be let off the hook from the weightier topics and nods slightly. "The loyalty hearings turned out to be good advertising: they have so many pre-orders that they already want to open a second quarry. They requested special, early permission to buy a parcel outside the old borders. But I couldn't figure out what land they meant because the district's maps are shit." He looks accusingly at a small map in his hand and Madge feels her fingers itching to rifle through all the other papers he's holding beneath it. What information does he have about the quarry? Surely some kind of application form for their land request that would have details about the corporate structure or funding…

"So I was trying to clear up the confusion," Gale continues, "and now I'm going out to the area to see for myself." He nods his head toward Zipper. "And taking him so he can get outside."

Madge smiles slightly, thinking Zipper probably isn't the only one eager for an excuse to tromp around on a mountainside instead of being cooped up indoors. She kneels down to scratch Zipper's ears.

"You know," she says, looking back up at Gale, "weren't _we_ supposed to go on a hike together? I don't think it's fair that you'll take Zipper for a hike but not me."

Gale seems surprised, but then he smiles faintly as he picks up on her teasing tone. "Come with us. We're going right now. If you're free."

"I'm totally free." Madge stands up again so they can start walking toward town, the unfamiliar feeling of happiness radiating outward from her chest. "How lucky I ran into the two of you. I've _really_ missed spending time with Zipper."

She grins impishly so he knows she isn't talking about Zipper and is pleased when he laughs, a sound she hasn't heard in she can't even remember how long.

"You sure about that? He's a real pain in the ass. I don't know how anyone puts up with him."

"Oh, he's definitely a pain. But he's worth it," she says lightly, aware that they're still not talking about the dog.

Gale grins back at her over Zipper, who's trotting happily between them, and then Madge asks what she should take with her on their excursion. As Gale proceeds to insult her sandals as flimsy and woefully inadequate and lists the food they should pack so they can have a picnic dinner on their hike, Madge decides that working on the inventory today was the best idea she's had in a long time.

#

After stopping at Dusty and Perri's house so Madge can change into shoes that meet Gale's approval, pack water and food, and leave a note that she'll miss dinner, they get situated in Gale's car. Madge has to fight Zipper for the front seat until Gale intervenes and orders Zipper into the back. Then they start driving on the road that leads beyond the district's western border. Madge savors the warmth of the early afternoon sun shining brightly over the canyons and the breeze from the open window whipping her hair around as she listens contentedly to Gale pointing out the peaks and other features they're passing. He's been exploring the area with Zipper lately, and seems more animated while he's talking. Madge starts to feel more relaxed than she has in weeks, comforted by the sound of his voice and how normal this outing feels.

Eventually the road transitions from pavement to gravel and finally to bare earth that's so dry they have to close the windows to avoid choking on the dust. It's difficult to judge distances now that they're driving at a slower speed, but after a while the road widens into what Gale describes as a staging area, which is occupied with several other vehicles and large pieces of equipment. It looks like an active construction zone to Madge, with workers directing machinery and conferring with each other over schematics.

"The road turns south here and will connect to District 3," Gale explains as he parks off to the side. Madge sees that the road does make a turn beyond the staging area. "Dusty has been working on the road. But we're heading north, over that ridge and up the next valley. We're just parking here."

It's strange that Gale knows more about her aunt and uncle's lives than Madge does. She knew Dusty did something with the new roads, but he doesn't talk about himself much and she realizes guiltily that she hasn't asked. Perri usually dominates the mealtime conversations with exasperated stories about other members of the Reconstruction Committee, which reminds Madge of Gale, who has a similarly low tolerance for idiocy. Madge can't talk about her job, so she usually just listens or tells them about meals Simon has cooked for her.

They get out of the car and Zipper immediately runs over to a parked bulldozer and pees on its dirt-encrusted blade. Madge worries that one of the construction workers will get mad at them, but nobody seems to have seen and Gale's already ordering Zipper to come back. Gale shuts him in the car so he and Madge can ask the construction workers if they know anything about the prospective quarry location.

"Wait." Madge calls, ducking inside the car to grab Gale's sunglasses from the dashboard. She gently pushes them over his eyes, lingering slightly to brush road dust out of his hair. "There. Incognito."

He smiles wryly. "I don't think sunglasses will help me."

"Maybe not," she admits. "But why not try?" She omits that she's getting an uneasy feeling about this staging area. Maybe it's because of her admittedly unsubstantiated suspicions about Simon's brother's company—if they're up to no good they won't be happy to learn that Gale not only went to the quarry but also came out here.

As they walk toward a group of workers congregated on the other side of the staging area, Madge asks, "It's not really the Reconstruction Committee's job to deal with individual applications for land, is it?"

"Not really. This is a special request, which we could ignore—we still don't have a proposal for how to distribute the land, and the country would have to vote to approve it—but the president doesn't want to discourage new businesses, so we could make an exception and deal with this request. I said I'd look into it." He frowns as a nearby rumbling draws his attention to an excavator chugging into the staging area from the road to District 3. "Mostly I don't trust Simon's brother. There are old quarries all over. Why go after the one that was your family's? Didn't your father get their mother arrested a long time ago?"

"Yes." Madge likes that he remembered, and feels flattered at the implication that Gale's personal interest in this quarry application might be tangentially related to looking out for her. "I think Edwin is a creep," she confides.

"He hasn't bothered you, has he?" Gale asks sharply. She momentarily pictures Gale as a bird with his feathers fluffed out in agitation. It's comforting in a way; whatever he thinks of her, at least he still wants to protect her from creeps.

"No, he's just generally a Capitol sleaze and Simon doesn't see it. But what can I do—he's Simon's older brother and practically raised him. You saw him in action at the hearing—he's good at political maneuvering, which to Simon is important. In a non-life-and-death way it might even be a little like hunting was for you, something he needed to be good at in the environment where he grew up. So I think Simon's got a bit of hero worship blinding him to what his brother may really be like..."

Gale exhales loudly and then kicks a rock, sending it hurtling into the nearby trees.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about my own brothers," he says stiffly. "I haven't seen them since the war ended."

"Maybe you should visit. Could they come here?"

"They will at some point. Probably pretty soon. I don't know, I haven't talked to my mom in a while."

Madge feels a flash of jealousy that he still _has_ a mom and not only that, three siblings. How he hasn't seen them since the war ended is mind-boggling, but she doesn't say anything because they're approaching a knot of workers clad in orange vests.

A petite woman wearing a hard hat and a stern expression turns to face them. "Yes?"

"Are you familiar with the valleys north of here?" Gale asks brusquely. Madge usually likes to warm up her interviewees with some compliments or introductory remarks, but Gale appears to prefer directness.

"We're a little focused on getting this road built before autumn," the woman says in a huffy tone.

Madge steps forward and smiles. "Sorry to disturb you, we can see how busy you are. Have you noticed other parties traveling to areas north of here? Beyond that ridge?"

"So many people treat this area as their own personal parking lot I can't keep track of where they all go. As long as they stay out of my crew's way I could care less."

"Is our car all right over there?" Madge asks. "It's not blocking anything, is it?"

"It's fine," the woman says with a sniff.

"How about that trailer?" Madge points to the small trailer on the far side of the staging area. It isn't branded with the same logo visible on the construction vehicles or the workers' vests and she wants to know more about it.

"They keep it off to the side. Usually not a problem."

"So they aren't part of your operation? What do they do?"

The woman's patience appears to be wearing thin. "Heck if I know. Rock collectors? I don't care as long as they don't block my pavers." She turns toward her coworkers, effectively ending the conversation, and Madge and Gale walk back to the car to retrieve Zipper and their backpacks.

Madge gently steers them past the trailer on their return trip and makes a mental appointment to look inside it later. The good stuff is usually hidden and she can tell from a cursory scan that its lock won't pose a challenge. Maybe when they get back from their hike and the construction crews have left for the day she can sneak inside…

She hears Gale make an exasperated sound and realizes that Zipper is frantically barking at a cement mixer and bouncing all over the driver's seat of Gale's car, slobbering on the windows and doing who knows what to the buttons on the control panel.

"I'm starting to think he's only good when he's within a certain magical distance of you," she observes.

Gale looks like he has similar suspicions and shakes his head in annoyance as he unlocks the car door, releasing Zipper.

"Come on, let's wear him out."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Whoa, they're talking again! But not about the important stufff... ;) Forest date next chapter. Thank you so much to everybody who's been reading and reviewing!


	11. Forest Date

**Chapter 11: Forest Date**

"And then Zipper jumped on the kid, knocked his ice cream cone to the ground, and ate it," Gale recounts grimly as he leads Madge by the hand across the surprisingly fast-moving mountain stream they're fording. "The kid and the mom both started carrying on like it was the end of the world so I bought him another cone, but the jerks at the newspaper only ran the picture of me handing it over, making it look like I just go around _buying treats_ for people."

Madge laughs at how insulted he sounds, and how he blames the newspaper rather than Zipper for the incident. "How _terrible_. You should train Zipper to bite any reporters who think you're nice. He could be a reverse guard dog."

Gale makes an amused sound and then grips her hand more tightly. "Watch out, there's a dip here."

They had to take off their boots to cross this stream and even though her feet and legs are currently in danger of going numb, Madge has been relishing every moment of this trip. Zipper has been, true to his name, _zipping_ back and forth over the slopes, enthusiastically sniffing the rocks and trees as though each one exists for his personal delight. Gale has seemed equally as absorbed with the plants and birds, pausing periodically to count numbers of leaves and look up species names in a book he brought along.

Madge wobbles slightly as she steps into the low point Gale pointed out, sinking deep enough that the water hits the hem of her shorts, but he helps steady her against the current. And even though she finds she can manage on her own the closer they get to the opposite bank, she doesn't let go of his hand.

"Oh, look," she breathes once they reach the other side, pointing across the valley with her free hand. A rugged mountain has crept out from behind the ridge, its avalanche chutes seemingly close enough to touch. "Can we have our picnic here?"

Gale drags his eyes from the mountain back to Madge and nods, and then studies her face for a few seconds before scanning the rocky stream bank for a place to sit. Zipper is still frolicking in the shallower water, ducking his head under the surface occasionally in what Madge assumes is an attempt to catch fish.

They pick a rock near the water with a view of the mountain, where they can dangle their feet in the stream and keep an eye on Zipper. The shadows from the trees are lengthening and Madge doesn't realize how hungry she is until Gale passes her one of the sandwiches they packed.

"The view here reminds me of a painting we had in the parlor at home," she says wistfully as she takes a bite. "It didn't occur to me until now that my dad probably brought it with him when he moved to 12."

"I remember it," Gale says. "A big mountain?"

She nods and smiles sadly at him, appreciating that at least one other person remembers that painting—and that life. The painting had dominated the interior wall of the parlor, and Gale probably saw it when Lulu used to have him wait for her when he arrived for one of their walks/strategy sessions.

"I didn't like that room because everything was so frilly and white," Gale admits. "So I'd look at that mountain and wish I could be there instead. But it was the same way I'd wish we could get rid of the Capitol. Like I knew deep down it would never happen."

It's hard for Madge to believe it did happen, especially on the mornings when she wakes up wondering why she's not in her bed in District 12. She can feel the tightness in her throat threatening to overwhelm her and tries to swallow it, not wanting to let this wonderful, sunny afternoon turn gloomy. Thankfully, Zipper chooses that moment to start a game and drops a partially mangled, disgusting stick on Gale's sandwich.

Gale makes a frustrated sound and hurls the stick into the stream, sending Zipper bounding and splashing after it. "I swear he does this on purpose," Gale says angrily as he inspects his sandwich. To Madge's horror, he brushes off the debris and makes a move to take a bite.

"You can't eat that!" Madge shoves the other half of her own sandwich into his hands. "Here."

She can tell he's holding back a comment about her being a prissy mayor's daughter and is strangely comforted by the familiarity. Hopefully he doesn't guess that she's been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him again and that the idea of him eating a dog slobber-infested sandwich interferes with those thoughts.

Gale accepts her sandwich with narrowed eyes and then pushes his tainted sandwich into the food bag in his backpack.

"Are we doing all right on time before the sun sets?" she asks to change the subject.

"Should be." He twists to glance at the horizon and starts eating the new sandwich. In the meantime, Zipper trots back over with the remnants of his stick and drops it on Madge's legs this time. She picks it up gingerly and tosses it a few feet to the side, where Zipper pounces and sinks to the ground to gnaw it. Then she notices Gale looking at her quizzically.

"What?" She hopes she doesn't look too sweaty and gross; her hair must be a disaster.

"We're actually farther than I thought we'd be. You've been keeping up with me."

"Oh. Good." She smiles, relieved she didn't slow him down. Katniss probably never slowed him down… Katniss also probably never gave him grief about nearly eating something vile, though.

Madge notices his eyes lingering on her legs, stretched out in front of them on the rock and dangling partially in the water, the fragments of Zipper's stick resting on her thighs. She brushes the stick pieces away and is surprised when Gale says, "And your legs are more muscular now than they were back home."

"You used to look at my legs?" She's flattered to know he spent energy thinking about her body when they were in 12, but Gale ruins the compliment by rolling his eyes.

"That's not news, Madge. My point is: you're in good shape for messing with computers all day."

Oh. That's where he was going.

He leans forward to pin her with his eyes. "That's what you said you did: worked with computers. Right?"

"I said 'mostly.'"

"What's the non-mostly part?"

She bites her lip, not sure what she can say and not wanting to give him any reason to worry about her. Her hesitation must not be much comfort, because Gale's expression sours.

"Look," she says levelly, "I'm fine. I've never been caught."

Gale looks over at Zipper, still busy chewing his stick into smithereens, and sits quietly for a few moments before speaking. "You said that on the night of the bombing: that you never get caught. Afterward I thought that was why you hadn't made it—you'd jinxed yourself." Madge stills, surprised he's talking about the night of the bombing. The pain in his voice is a reminder that he thought she was dead for nearly a year… Gale sucks in a breath and turns to face her. "You did get away, though. So maybe you're right that you never get caught. But maybe you're also a little too good at disappearing."

The hint of accusation underlying his words makes Madge bristle, aware that Dusty and Perri don't like it when she's embedded either. Simon can reach her if there's an emergency, but as she studies Gale she thinks about the non-urgent things that she'd like to talk to him about… She wouldn't mind listening to him gripe about the Reconstruction Committee members the way Perri does to Dusty over dinner, or for him to tell her about newspapers committing the unspeakable crime of portraying him as too considerate. And wouldn't it be nice to eat dinner with him, the way she does with Simon when she's in town? Gale probably isn't as elaborate of a cook as Simon, but he could probably pull something together Madge would enjoy. And Gale probably wouldn't harass her about always crashing on his couch.

She blushes when it occurs to her that she might not be sleeping on Gale's _couch_, and quickly checks to see if he noticed. No, he's pulling his feet out of the stream and reaching for his boots, apparently preparing to continue their hike. There's a hunch in his shoulders suggesting that he feels slightly defeated and Madge realizes that even if he doesn't like how she disappears for work, he would never ask her to quit Covert Intelligence: the whole basis of their friendship has been them each working in their own way to fight the Capitol. His fight has transitioned into standing firm in the public eye for the ideals the rebels fought for, while she's ensuring that nobody is covertly betraying those ideals.

But maybe she could find a way to do that work without enduring so much isolation and secrecy. Maybe she _should_ consider downgrading to an analyst position like Simon had suggested… Although with her luck, Gale would probably pick that exact moment to reconcile with Katniss and flit off to District 12.

#

"I think this is it," Gale announces, looking up from the map as Madge joins him in the middle of the meadow and shrugs off her backpack next to his. He hands her his canteen and gets momentarily entranced watching her drink.

"Is it just me, or did that hill go on _forever_?" Madge asks. Her lips are still glistening from the water and a stray drop is sliding towards her chin. What would she do if he tried to kiss it away? She doesn't seem to be repulsed by him anymore, but he probably can't just kiss her out of nowhere because she looks cute drinking water. Or walking. Or throwing sticks for Zipper.

"Sorry," Madge says quickly. "I didn't mean to complain. I know you're probably not used to… your hiking partners… complaining."

He decides she's also cute when she's anxious about manners. And of course she would figure out a way to import manners into bushwhacking their way up a mountain. "That hill _was_ long," he allows. Longer than he estimated based on this shit map, one of the government's old copies that hasn't been updated yet.

"This doesn't look like a future quarry," Madge says, looking around at the meadow.

"Not yet," he agrees. "Although there's a rocky cliff over there… Maybe once they clear all the vegetation and topsoil it will look like a quarry." He can't tell what type of rock is underneath the meadow, which he now recognizes as a serious flaw in his plan to double-check the quarry's land request. He had assumed the area would look like the quarries he's seen in District 2, bare rocks already exposed. But he doesn't even know for sure if he's in the right area—it was unclear from the application, and the man in the quarry's office had also been vague. Still, he might as well record as much as he can about this area since he's here.

Sitting down on a nearby rock so he can make handwritten notes on his map, he feels Madge sit next to him, leaning slightly into his side to look over his shoulder as he works on the map. If it were anyone else, he'd elbow them in the gut to get them to back off, but all he can think about is that even this close to Madge still seems too far away.

"What now?" she asks.

He can feel her breath on his ear. If he twisted his head, he could kiss her—she'd melt into him, he could pull her onto his lap, and he's pretty sure he could coax one of those noises out of her—

_Get a grip._ It's always been too easy to slide into kissing her, but it also has always resulted in complications and they've both been purposefully avoiding talking about the heavier issues… Like making sure she truly understands how different he is from who she thinks she remembers, or how they could be together when she vanishes into what he can only assume are dangerous situations for days or maybe even weeks at a time. They don't have enough time to get into any of that if they want to get back to the car before the sun sets. There's also the little matter of this having been one of the best days he can remember and he doesn't want to risk wrecking it by bringing up all the more painful topics.

He tries to ignore how much her nearness affects him and concentrates on his map. "What now? First, I need a worthwhile map. The company re-surveying these lands hasn't done this area yet. Then I'll ask the quarry company to give me coordinates."

Madge makes a sound that he knows means she's skeptical of whatever information they would submit. Suspicious little thing.

"Can I look at these?" she asks, reaching for the maps and papers he isn't using. He pushes the pile toward her and then returns to making his notes, grateful she's so engrossed in whatever she's looking at that he can focus on turning this old map into something vaguely useful. The contour lines just barely align with reality; if it weren't for the abandoned mine shafts he's been using as landmarks as they hiked, he wouldn't even know they were in the right valley. Unsurprisingly, the Capitol only cared about this area for what ores could be extracted from it. He draws in the streams they've passed and some of the other features that stood out, trying to think about what would be useful as reference points when he compares this map with the aerial photographs in his office...

"Gale, can you show me Mount Madge?"

He freezes, realizing which of his handmade maps she must be looking at. Is it too late to swipe it back and reverse time so she won't have seen that he named a mountain after her? He was feeling especially nostalgic that day and had also named a string of lakes after his parents and Rory, Vick, and Posy. And included Hob Valley, Catnip Creek, Primrose Peak, Ripper Ridge, Sae Saddle…

"It's in a different sector," he says evasively, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and pretending to study the map he's been improving. "We won't be near it today."

Madge shifts so she can focus on him more intently, her blue eyes boring into his. "What's it like?"

He smiles slightly as his initial embarrassment starts to fade and shifts into recognition that she successfully cornered him into admitting this. Fine. This is a trap he doesn't mind being caught in.

"It's beautiful," he says, turning fully to face her. "I wish I could see it every day."

He might as well have flipped the 'Madge Face Red' switch. Her eyes widen at his boldness and she sits back slightly. He likes knowing he can get this kind of reaction out of her, and really, isn't that what she wanted to know? Her shock is a little surprising, though—has she really not understood how he feels about her? With a suppressed shudder he remembers telling her he couldn't see her anymore; yeah, maybe she would be a little confused.

"Madge." He reaches for her hand, but she stands up abruptly and inwardly he groans because he knows what she's going to say.

"Do you hear that?"

"Trust me, it's nothing." He catches her hand this time and tries to pull her back onto the rock with him. Frantic dog barking in the background won't deter him from kissing her.

"He sounds like he's injured!"

"He's not. _Madge, he's not!_" Too late: he's calling out into the air because she's already running toward the base of the cliff to check on Zipper's latest freak out. Gale seriously doubts Zipper is injured. At least not yet; no guarantees _Gale_ won't wring his little canine neck.

Resigned, he picks up their backpacks and follows Madge toward the cliffs and the sound of Zipper's barking, where he finds Madge hugging the idiot dog in front of a boarded up mine entrance. When Zipper spots Gale, he has the gall to start wagging his tail proudly. _Bad dog._ Why didn't any of the training books have instructions on how to avoid _this_?

"See? He's fine." Gale can't keep the irritation out of his voice. Just when he was starting to like Zipper, he pulls this stunt… Madge still looks concerned so he testily explains. "He got burned by acid mine runoff on our first hike and now he barks whenever he sees more of it. He thinks he's protecting us. See that discolored water? Don't touch it."

Madge looks distastefully at the foul water pooled in front of the mine's entrance. "I thought _we_ were the coal district. Or used to be."

"Coal's other places, too. Like here. Although these mines could have been for something else, maybe even from before the Dark Days."

Madge walks over to the old mine entrance while Gale glares at Zipper. Now Madge is focused on this boarded up structure instead of Gale having _named a mountain_ after her. He hadn't intended for it to be a romantic gesture because he never thought she'd see that map, but to be missing out on whatever good will or momentum he'd accidentally gained feels cruel. He drops their backpacks to the ground again in huffy defeat.

"Gale? What is this?"

He joins Madge as she peers into a neat cylindrical hole in the soil about a foot in diameter wide. "I don't know. It looks recent, though." He can tell she's latched onto this, so he reluctantly pulls out his map to mark the approximate location of whatever it is as Madge stands up and walks farther along the cliff face. About 100 feet away she calls that there are more holes and then she continues until she's out of view.

"_Great_," he calls, fairly certain she's not even listening let alone picking up on his sarcasm. Since when is dirt more interesting than him?

He trails behind her, marking the other holes on his map. His guess is that they've been made by prospectors, maybe the quarry people or maybe others, trying to assess what minerals this ground is concealing—he doesn't know enough about prospecting methods or rock analysis to be able to tell. He can ask Milo this weekend. He pauses as a happy thought occurs to him: maybe he'll be busy with Madge this weekend and won't have time to meet Milo for a climb… Madge is taking time off work and they're getting along so well, maybe they could go on an actual date… _Her_ kind of date, like she deserves.

As he rounds the corner of the cliff, the brightness of the metallic yellow stuns him. He's facing a small backhoe so extraordinarily out of place amongst these rocks and trees that he can't even fathom what it's doing here. It had to have been delivered by air—there's no way it could drive or have been hauled up the steep inclines from the staging area.

Madge is sitting in the backhoe's glass-enclosed cab, clearly rummaging for information. Did she break in? Are construction vehicles even locked?

"What are you doing?" he asks warily.

She's squinting at a paper she's holding and then hands it to him through the cab's open door. "Does this map mean anything to you?"

He pulls it closer to examine it more carefully. "I think these are symbols for rocks and minerals. This one means coal." He points to a small black dot he's more than familiar with from District 12. "This area has so many minerals… Whoever this belongs to was probably prospecting, trying to figure out the best tracts to buy."

"Cheating, you mean," Madge says. "Trying to get a head start before the land is even available."

"These mountains are filled with prospectors, Madge. Remember what the woman at the staging area said? People are out here all the time. I don't blame them for wanting to get a head start." He'll be the first to admit how slow and disorganized the new government is.

"It seems suspicious to me," Madge says, defiance in her tone.

"It seems smart to me." Gale pushes the map back at her. "Put it back wherever you found it. We need to head back now while we still have daylight."

Madge ignores him and instead pulls off her clunky bracelet and twists it, transforming it into a mini-camera that she uses to snap a picture of the map before sliding it below the seat.

"You're _spying_ on these people?"

"_This_ isn't spying," she says indignantly. "People who abandon their equipment on land they don't own can have no expectation of privacy."

"But you're not always in public places or respecting people's privacy, are you?"

She ducks his disapproving glare and continues inspecting the interior of the backhoe's cab, her non-answer an answer all the same. "Criminals don't deserve privacy," she says as she pauses to snap another picture.

"We don't know they're criminals—all we know is that they're probably prospectors. Whoever brought this here may not even be associated with that quarry—I can't be certain we're looking at the right area."

"Well, it looks to me like they're planning to unfairly take advantage of the disorder in the country. It's worth looking into."

"What does that mean, 'look into'?"

"I can check this vehicle's serial number to see who bought it, how it was financed, where it was registered… And I can do a more thorough search about the land request now that I have…"

She trails off and he realizes she's holding the quarry company's land request paperwork, which had been mixed in with his maps and other papers. He'd just handed over everything to her and then had been distracted into thinking she actually cared about him. The betrayal hits him like a grenade to the gut and he takes a step backward as though she physically pushed him.

"That's why you're here with me," he says slowly when he recovers from the shock, the knowledge making him feel ill. "You were snooping around at the quarry and saw a way to learn more about what they were doing. You didn't actually want to see me."

"That's not true!" Madge sputters, moving to slide out of the backhoe's cab. "All I've wanted is to spend time with you!"

"Not recently."

"Recently you've been a _jerk_!"

He scowls at her but doesn't respond, aware that he's no saint when it comes to how he's been treating her. Rather than admit that, though, he storms back to where he'd dumped their backpacks. This hike is over _now_.

Madge catches up to him as he's pulling his pack on, but he's so angry he doesn't look at her.

"You're suspicious, too, Gale. And how can you let people possibly get away with cheating the system like this?"

"Nobody's getting away with anything!" The suggestion that he might be consciously letting assholes undermine everything they fought the war for infuriates him. "We don't even have a plan to give away the land yet, and I'm not approving anything if I can't figure out what land they want!"

When he sees that she has her backpack secured, he turns and starts barreling through the forest, determined to get back to the car as soon as possible and hoping he's calculating the direction accurately. Zipper does his usual extraneous scouring of the terrain, oblivious to the hostility between the two humans, which makes Gale jealous that _he_ can't be that carefree.

"People like Simon's brother are snakes," Madge insists from a few feet behind him, now annoying rather than impressing him that she's able to keep up with his pace. "And whoever was doing all this up here is engaging in potentially illegal actions, taking advantage of the post-war chaos in the country. They'll figure out some way to come out on top. We have to beat them to it."

He stops walking and turns to glare at her. "_Potentially_ illegal, huh? Not _actually_ illegal? And what are the laws on spying?"

"They haven't been revised yet," Madge admits, not looking at him. Translation: anything goes.

Gale grabs her arm and forces her to meet his eyes. "Those sick bastards spied on your house for an entire year for no reason, and now you're doing the same thing just because you can?"

"It's different." She yanks her arm back.

"Is it?" he asks snidely.

"You don't understand," she says in a low, angry tone.

He thinks he does understand. And it scares him a little to learn that Madge is more like he is than he thought. Not to mention how furious he is that she would try to use him.

Turning his back on her, he returns to pushing his way through the trees and branches so they can get to the car before sunset. They don't have time to debate this; they're flirting with running out of daylight and he's too angry to talk anyway. He viciously whacks a tree branch out of his way.

#

Madge stomps onto the gravel surface of the staging area about 30 feet behind Gale, the same distance she's maintained for the last two hours. Unlike on the hike in, he stopped warning her about backflinging branches so she had to lag behind slightly to avoid being whipped by rogue pine fronds. He's so good at being a jerk it's almost an art form.

There's barely any dusky light remaining and Gale's military jeep is the only non-construction vehicle amongst the now-silent machines parked for the evening. Madge notices the trailer she'd wanted to explore is gone, too. After Gale's hostile reaction to her investigation of the backhoe, she's almost glad for the excuse not to try to get into the trailer. He'd probably abandon her out here, and for now at least he seems willing to still drive her home even if he refuses to speak to her or look at her.

She silently opens the passenger door and sits down, half wondering if Zipper is going to win the front seat for the drive home, but Zipper is already curled up in the back. Gale glances at her for long enough to verify that she's in one piece in the car and then turns the key in the ignition.

Only to be greeted by silence. She sees him frown and try again before registering that none of the other lights are on in the car's interior. They both exit the car and meet at the front hood, which Gale opens to reveal a gaping wound where the car's battery should be.

While Gale starts in on a fit of cursing that would have confirmed Madge's mother's assumptions about the crassness of miners, Madge darts back to her seat and rummages through the glove compartment.

_Shit._

A few seconds later, Gale appears, leaning against the open passenger side door and leveling one of his fiercest glares at her.

"They stole my portable work phone," she says, still partially in shock and staring straight ahead out the windshield into the darkening forest. "I left it in the glove compartment because there's no reception out here, but it's useful for emergencies and I could have tried to call Simon once we were within transmission range…" Now she's going to have to tell Simon their phone links have been compromised and he's going to flip out…

Gale clenches his jaw as he stares at her, making her feel like they're back in District 12 and he's the most intimidating person in the schoolyard.

"Theft?" he asks tersely. "Or just meant to look like theft?"

"Those phones are valuable, and we used to steal these types of batteries when I was in District 7," Madge says, remembering how cold it would get and how the batteries in the Capitol's vehicles were compatible with their generators. Now these same vehicles belong to the new government, and anyone who wants a battery would know that. "That construction woman said there are people coming and going all the time here…" All very convincing arguments for a run of the mill theft, but as she's talking she reaches under the seat and with a sinking feeling realizes that her folder of notes on the quarry is also missing.

"What?" Gale demands as he takes in the worried expression on her face. "What else aren't you telling me?"

She looks up at Gale and tries to calculate what she can actually explain. He did sign that confidentiality paperwork, but that was so she could tell him she works in Covert Intelligence and where she had been during the war, not so she could divulge details of her investigations. But they might be in real danger tonight and if whoever took the car battery did so for sabotage purposes, that could be interpreted as an act of aggression against the military which might justify involving him…

"I've been looking into something bigger than Simon's brother possibly trying something sketchy with the quarry or the land request, although that might be related," Madge admits, attempting to stay vague about the details. "I think it spans multiple districts. And whoever took my phone took my notes, too."

Gale winces and then walks away from her and returns to the front of the car, slamming the hood down. She's never seen him this mad at her. The Capitol yes, but not her. Zipper jumps out of the car through Madge's door and trails behind them as Gale moves to the back door of the car.

He pulls out a bin she hadn't noticed before, hidden behind the spare tire. "Get your backpack," he says without looking at her.

"What are you doing?" She's bewildered and a little scared. What if he's so mad he abandons her here in the dark forest?

"We can't stay here," he snaps. "Whoever did this to the car could come back and we don't want to be here if they do. And this car isn't getting us home, so we have to hike back."

She obediently retrieves her backpack from the front seat and hands it to Gale, relieved he's not abandoning her. She watches him angrily stuff additional gear into her backpack until it's full and then work on his own backpack, attaching things to the outside with cords and hooks.

"What's all this?" she asks hesitantly.

"Emergency gear. You never know when someone you trusted is going to trick you into a trap."

"I didn't trick you," she says, getting angry. "You wanted to come out here."

"You didn't tell me everything you know, and you still haven't." He violently zips up an external pocket on his backpack.

"It's classified, Gale," she snaps. "I can't tell you. And you don't tell me everything, either. Like why you wouldn't go back to 12 with me. Or that you designed horrible weapons during the war."

Gale flinches slightly and then pauses packing to glare at her. "That's totally different. None of that was your business, but you can't resist getting into other people's business, can you? And _me_ not telling you things isn't dangerous."

She's so angry she wishes momentarily she were stranded here with Simon instead, who would understand all of this perfectly and not make these unjustified accusations. Gale, on the other hand, always thinks he knows everything about everything, _even when he totally doesn't_. As he turns his attention back to the gear, she first crosses her arms and then aggressively grabs the flashlight he holds out to her.

Zipper had been sitting on the ground next to Gale, but stands up abruptly, ears alert. Gale and Madge both notice and freeze, straining in the silence to hear what Zipper hears. Madge notices a faint glow on the road before she hears the crunching of tires on dirt and pebbles. A vehicle is driving toward them. Someone they could get a ride with? Or whoever broke into the car, returning?

Gale has already sprung into action, closing the trunk of the car door and tossing Zipper's leash at Madge. "Take the packs and Zipper up the hillside," he says, crouching to pull something out of his backpack. "Stay in the trees."

"What are you—"

"We need to know what we're dealing with." To her surprise, he's loading a handgun that she didn't even know he'd brought, though his attention is split so he can monitor the pale glow from the headlights of the approaching vehicle.

"I should stay, I might recognize them—"

"_No._ Get out of here and take Zipper so he doesn't give us away."

He has a point: they can't stake their safety on Zipper behaving. Madge shakily attaches his leash and loops one strap from each backpack around her shoulders, anxious about Gale staying behind by himself, but he's already walking toward the bulldozer, probably to wait behind it. She must be hesitating for too long because Gale turns briefly toward her, eyes stormy.

"Go, Madge!"


	12. Spectres

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay! This story has been taking more and more energy to write lately so I'm not able to get the chapters posted as quickly. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including new folks and those I couldn't reply to individually. I really appreciate hearing from you.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Spectres<strong>

The moon is only a thin crescent and doesn't do much to combat the darkness seeping into the staging area, but Gale is crouching out of view behind a bulldozer anyway, listening as the rumbling of the approaching vehicle grows louder. To avoid detection, he adjusts his position as it passes him, the eerie glow from its headlights illuminating the airborne dust. He can see that it's a truck but it looks like virtually every other run-down civilian junk heap he's seen in this district: gray, dented and coated in dirt. No useful identifying features.

The engine cuts off after parking next to his own car, and then doors open and voices confer quietly, followed by a man's voice calling out, "Anyone here?"

Gale wedges his body deeper into the space between the bulldozer's cab and its oversized track belts, crusted mud rubbing off into his clothes. Good. Camouflage. No way is he identifying himself until he knows whether these people pose a threat or not.

He can hear a woman speaking. "Guess not. Government hack and his girlfriend must have left already." Gale is horrified to realize that he's the 'government hack.' He should shoot these people for that comment alone.

"The trailer was over there," the man's voice says, tinged with impatience. "Let's do the sweep." Gale hears the crunching of shoes on gravel moving toward the area where the trailer had been parked. Leaning out cautiously from behind the bulldozer, he can see two figures scouring the ground with their flashlights. So they're the cleanup crew, sent to be sure the trailer disappeared without a trace… Which suggests that whoever stole the battery from his car only intended to slow him and Madge down. The car could have easily been rigged to detonate when he started it, but that would have drawn apparently unwanted attention to whatever is going on here. If all these people actually needed to do was conceal the trailer and whatever was inside it, moving it would accomplish that.

But why not just move it and be done with it? Maybe he and Madge inquiring made them nervous. Or possibly something in Madge's stolen notes triggered worries about her becoming suspicious about the trailer and they thought she might make a call on her portable phone to alert others to be on the lookout for a missing trailer on the road… He feels a fresh surge of irritation at her for keeping things from him, although it's tempered by his own guilt at not have been more concerned about the explosion on the road between Districts 2 and 3 that Dusty had mentioned… He should have been more alert to the possibility of potentially violent scheming in this area.

He climbs on top of the bulldozer's tracks so he can get a better view of these shitheads who either sabotaged his car or are associated with whoever did, but it's too dark to see anything other than silhouettes and flashlight beams. He can't see how well (or if) they're armed, and with such limited tactical information he can't confront them, which is frustrating because knocking their heads together is pretty tempting at the moment. All he knows is that he's outnumbered and that waiting for him somewhere in the forest are a cute spy with questionable judgment and a dangerously non-stealthy dog. He prays to whatever dog behavior spirits might exist that Madge can keep Zipper from barking…

The murmuring voices are growing louder and he realizes the people are returning to their truck, so he ducks out of view again.

"Think they got a ride out with the road crew?" the man's voice asks.

"Must have. Otherwise we'd have seen them on the road. Eh, not our problem."

Gale tenses at the awareness they were looking for him and Madge along the road. He's simultaneously relieved to hear that these two at least don't seem to be interested in tracking them, although maybe there are others within the division of labor amongst these crooks who do have that task... He stays on edge as they get back into their truck, the engine roaring like an angry animal in the quiet of the forest. When the taillights disappear and he can no longer hear the engine's distant hum, he waits a few more minutes and then conducts his own careful inspection of the staging area. He doesn't know what he's looking for, but all he sees are gravel and oil stains. It seems like they didn't miss anything, so he starts up the hillside to find Madge and Zipper.

They're easy to track, even with only a flashlight: Zipper's leash confined his telltale zigzagging into a narrow band of intensely disturbed underbrush. After about five minutes of hiking, Gale is relieved to hear Zipper's tail beating against leaves.

"Madge?" He shines his flashlight toward the sound of the tail wagging, but all he sees is Zipper, leashed to a tree next to their backpacks and straining eagerly to greet Gale.

He raises his voice. "Madge!" _Where the hell is she?_ He unties Zipper and throws the flashlight beam around the surrounding area so he can figure out which direction she walked. Her path is easy to spot, but doesn't make sense: why would she walk back down the hill at an angle that won't take her to the staging area? He picks up their backpacks and starts tracking her, his concern about her being hurt by their visitors replaced by worry that she'll get herself lost.

He alternates calling her name and listening to the forest's nocturnal murmurings for some sign of her, growing more concerned the farther he walks. He brought the gun because he worried they might encounter predatory animals or mutts, and Madge could be walking right into to one. Why didn't she at least keep Zipper with her?

Squinting, he thinks he can make out the faint beam of another flashlight up ahead. When he shines his own light in that direction and sees her familiar form and light hair, relief floods him and he and Zipper both rush toward her. He can see her flashlight bobbing as she runs in their direction, too.

They crash into each other and he can feel her clinging to him as tightly as he's holding her.

"You're all right," Madge says breathlessly, her fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt. "I was so worried… I heard the car drive away, and when you didn't come find us I thought they'd taken you or hurt you… I was on my way to come help."

He closes his eyes, as though that could block what she'd just said, which is wrong in so many ways it leaves a knot of anxiety in his stomach. She was on her way to getting completely lost without any gear, not even heading in the right direction. She shouldn't have been returning anyway—what would she have done if he'd run into trouble with the people in the truck? She's no Katniss. He's lucky she hadn't gotten any farther or reached a point where he wouldn't have been able to track her any longer…

Pulling back slightly to look at her, he sees smudges of dirt on her face and leaves and moss in her hair—she must have tripped at some point. But she's looking at him with such concern and relief, and he's so glad she didn't walk off a cliff accidentally or get attacked by a mutt, that he can't find it in him to be upset with her and instead gently brushes the dirt off her forehead.

"Gale, what happened?" she asks urgently. "They didn't see you?"

"No." He quickly explains his theory that whoever they were, they seemed primarily concerned with ensuring he and Madge didn't find out what was in the trailer. Madge listens attentively, nodding occasionally as though she agrees with his assessment of the situation, and when he finishes with his account he breaks the news that they can't hike back along the road. There are too many stretches without cover—they'd be cornered and vulnerable. He also doesn't want to risk a ride from a possibly hostile vehicle.

"We'll need to hike overland," he concludes. "We can go straight from the forest to a populated area where we can call for help from people we trust."

Madge seems dazed and mutely nods a few times before suddenly snapping out of it. She grasps his arms and locks her wide, worried eyes on his. "Gale, I'm so sorry, I never meant to risk you. I really did think we were just going hiking together, which is all I wanted. I swear. I mean, I was curious about the quarry but it was an afterthought. I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to you…"

She trails off and he can tell from her pained expression that she's being truthful. He also knows on a deeper level she wouldn't consciously endanger him, but he's still angry she would keep crucial facts from him so they couldn't jointly weigh the risks. _She_ may be good at sneaking around unnoticed, but Gale is unfortunately recognized virtually everywhere these days; sunglasses weren't anywhere near a good enough disguise for him. Anyone in that construction area—or at the quarry—could have identified him and warned the people in charge of the trailer that he was poking around… Add in Madge's notes: instant threat to anyone with something to hide.

He pulls himself away from Madge and kneels next to his backpack to sort through his map collection. "I'm fine with risks," he says, picking out the one he hopes will help him plot their route, "as long as I know what those risks are." He pauses to cast a stern look at Madge. "So is there anything else I need to know to get us home safely?"

Madge kneels on the other side of his backpack and pets Zipper, who has been pawing the outer pocket where the trail mix lives. "I don't know what I can tell you," she says apologetically. "The information I have is restricted, and it's mostly unsubstantiated suspicions. I'm not supposed to be working right now, actually, and losing my phone and notes isn't going to help me at work..." She starts fiddling with a carabiner attached to a loop on his pack, clicking it open and closed, and then looks at Gale. "For getting home, I agree we should stay off the road. Once we get to a phone I'll call Simon…" She sighs and he guesses she doesn't want to deal with the consequences of getting into this situation. "If he says it's OK, I can tell you more."

She clearly hopes this offer will satisfy him. Fat chance: Simon being the one authorizing Madge telling him something doesn't sit well. But it's the best she can do, and it doesn't change the fact that they need to get home as quickly and stealthily as possible. For now, that's all he's going to worry about.

He makes a noncommittal grunting sound, acknowledging what she said but not endorsing it. Then so she knows it's not _all_ her fault he adds, "I should have known something was up in this area. There was an explosion a while back on the road they're building to 3. I thought it was suspicious, but officially it was declared an accident. So many of the quarries and construction crews use explosives for their work… Now I wonder... Maybe there are more groups than I thought trying to get a head start on the land grab."

Madge quietly absorbs that information while he studies his maps by flashlight. If they cut across the next few mountains they'll hit the nearest village. Setting the map between them on the backpack, he describes their proposed route to Madge.

"How far?" He hears the trepidation in her voice.

"About 20 miles. Assuming we don't get lost." Given the state of these maps, he isn't making any guarantees.

"Starting now? We can't see anything."

"Well, we're not hanging around here." It's too dark to safely hike very far tonight, but they need to at least get away from the staging area in case anyone comes looking for them. If they can climb to the top of this ridge, they can find a sheltered place to rest for a few hours until sunrise. Madge should be fine as long as he's the one who navigates; she did well on the hike today. But there's the little problem of her tendency to wander…

"Madge," he says firmly, "we need some ground rules." By the flashlight's beam he can see her slightly scrunching her nose, looking so adorable he has to remind himself she needs a scolding for her own safety.

"No wandering away. Do you know where we are right now? _Nowhere_ near the staging area. You were headed west. If we get separated again, _stay put_. I'll find you. You leave an obvious trail. Wandering around without knowing where you're going is the worst thing you could do." He feels like he's lecturing Posy, who probably has as much wilderness know-how as Madge. "There are animals and mutts out here, so stay close to me or at least keep Zipper with you. OK?"

"OK," she says softly, not meeting his eyes. After a few moments, she rummages through her backpack for her jacket and quietly pulls it on. He thinks she seems appropriately warned, so he pulls on his own jacket and sets off up the mountain. The sooner they can get to the top, the sooner they can rest.

#

Madge sullenly trails Gale as he ascends what she's internally determined to be the worst of all the steep slopes they've trudged up today. Gale, of course, is charging ahead without any apparent effort, unhindered by the minimal visibility. Probably because he's bionic and has telepathy with the forest, which makes Madge wish she too had special powers. Preferably the kind that would magically transport her _right now_ into a warm, safe bed.

At least Gale no longer is looking at her like he wants to throw her into a rock crusher. He seemed to accept that she can't tell him more about her ongoing investigation and that she didn't mean to endanger him, but he obviously also thinks he has to baby-sit her. Maybe she did get lost when she was trying to get back to the staging area, but if she _had_ made it there and he'd been in trouble, who's he to say she wouldn't have been useful in some way? True she had to leave her weapon in the Capitol and hasn't technically used it or her combat training since her Enhanced Field Readiness course, but she would have had the element of surprise on her side… And even though her particular skills are more suited to urban environments, she still might have been able to help… Instead, to him she's just the reason he was facing danger in the first place (admittedly true) and her only contribution has been nearly getting lost, leaving her feeling guilty and useless and strangely bitter.

Her ability to judge the passage of time has been so marred by their nighttime flight that she isn't sure how long they've been moving, but when she sees Gale and Zipper stopped up ahead she realizes with relief that they're finally near the top of this horrible slope. Gale is drinking water and Madge can see that he poured some into a little bowl for Zipper. She'd think it was sweet that he brought a bowl for Zipper, except she's preoccupied with being miserable.

"How are you doing?" Gale asks, passing her his canteen.

Madge tries to swallow her complaints at the same time that she gulps the cool water. "Fine," she says tersely. And then she remembers to smile, but it's a pale effort.

Gale watches her with an amused expression and then says, "Zipper's tired. Can you wait here with him while I scout out a shelter?"

Madge nods and gratefully sinks to the ground next to Zipper, who's propping his head on his water bowl, eyelids drooping slightly. She knows the feeling. But she's determined not to complain, both because this situation is her fault and because Katniss would undoubtedly have been able to easily handle this excursion. Katniss would never get scared at all the weird rustling sounds from the trees Madge has heard tonight, and would never whine about being tired and hungry. This is _nothing_ compared to the Hunger Games, and it's not even illegal the way hunting outside District 12 was.

Zipper pitifully inches on his belly towards Gale's backpack and Madge realizes he's sniffing for food so she feeds him the rest of the sandwich that he already ruined with his slobber. She chokes down one of the energy bars she and Gale had packed, but it's disgusting and reminds her of war rations. Simon's probably dining on something exquisite right now, while her aunt and uncle finish the rest of the roast chicken from last night…

Another reason to feel horrible about getting into this mess: her aunt and uncle are most likely worried about her. The note she'd left said she was hiking with Gale and Zipper, so there's at least a possibility they'll assume Madge is following Zipper's lead in defecting from the Whistler house to Gale's apartment. As embarrassing as it is to think it looks like she rudely ran off to stay overnight with Gale, it's less upsetting than the reality that she's stranded in the wilderness.

The temperature drop is especially noticeable now that they aren't moving anymore so Madge pulls her windbreaker closer to her body, but it doesn't do much to warm her. Her bare legs are covered in goose bumps and a fine layer of dust, and she curses herself for not wearing long pants like Gale did. She's also surprised to see she still has leg bones since her legs feel like they've transformed into rubber after all this trekking. The drills she does for work keep her in good shape, but this day would have taxed all but the Katnisses and Gales of the world.

Just as she's starting to grow anxious about Gale's absence, he returns and announces that he found a place they can rest out of the wind. She wearily follows him to an area just below the invisible line on the slope where trees still grow. These bedraggled trees have been so abused by the high altitude gusts, though, that they're practically growing sideways and one recently toppled over. Madge decides to use the fallen tree as a bench while Gale pulls supplies out of their packs and starts a small fire, explaining that he thinks it's safe because nobody seems to be tracking them and visibility is low anyway.

The panicky feeling in her chest starts like the tiny spark Gale is nurturing in the baby fire, though it grows as the flames do. Madge pulls Zipper next to her and tries to concentrate on petting him to distract herself from the memories the flames are melting. Closing her eyes doesn't help—the dull orange penetrates her eyelids, the way it did when she was in her parents' bedroom that night, seeing the neighbors' house explode into a fireball through the window—so she buries her face in Zipper's neck, escaping into darkness. His oblivious simplicity is a comfort.

When a large POP erupts from the fire, Madge looks up in time to see the small lattice of twigs and logs near Gale collapse and send embers and ashes flying into the air. Suddenly all she can see are the pieces of the fence in her backyard at home exploding as she and Simon were trying to fight their way through the flaming _everything_ to find safety on the night of the bombing…

"Put it out," she whispers. Another vicious burst of crackling from the fire makes her leap up from the log and shoot backward, away from the light and the heat. "GALE PUT IT OUT!"

He jumps up and turns around, clearly shocked at her reaction. "Madge, it's just a campfire." He takes a step toward her and is speaking calmly, which _doesn't make any sense_—that fire could leap up out of control at any second and burn him or Zipper or her just like it had burned everyone back home…

She shakes her head violently. "No. We don't need it! Put it out. Please!"

He steps over the log and pulls her into a hug, shielding her from the sinister oranges and reds and creeping smoke. Madge tries focus on the crinkly fabric of Gale's jacket on her cheeks and how warm and reassuring and familiar his body feels, but the crackling sounds of the fire keep intruding, each hiss and pop making her flinch. The exhaustion and stress from the day have frayed her nerves to the point where she doesn't have it in her to pretend to not be bothered by this. She can feel the tears start to leak from her eyes and roll off the waterproof folds of Gale's coat, frustrating her into crying even harder because despite all her efforts today now he'll know how weak she really is…

Gale twists around for a moment, letting in a rush of cold air between them, and then is back, warming her up and gently rubbing her back. "It will burn itself out soon." He's silent for a few seconds and then says quietly, "Vick also can't handle flames now. I didn't make the connection that it might be hard for you…"

She didn't know, either, not having been around any fires since that night. Yes, she sees those scenes in her mind constantly, but hadn't thought a campfire would be so terrifying to experience. She squeezes Gale, wishing he already knew and not wanting to re-live that night by talking about it. But hasn't he been saying that he doesn't like not having the whole story? She's the same way—his not telling her things has been equally frustrating for her. Maybe since already feels so terrible, she should just get it out now…

Taking a long breath, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve and then mumbles into Gale's neck, "I never told you about my parents." She can feel his muscles tense slightly, but he keeps a firm grip on her. Not saying anything. Listening.

Madge hears her voice distantly and mechanically start to recount the night of the bombing after she and Gale separated. How Peacekeepers shot her father while he was trying to turn the electricity back off but that he made it home in an attempt to help Madge and her mom, how she and Simon found his body next to her mother, who had already been dosed with morphling for the night but must have been woken up by the bombing, seen what was happening to the district from her window, and been coherent enough to understand that neither Madge nor her father were anywhere in the house.

"She took the rest of her morphling. All of it. Before he got there. She must have decided she didn't want to burn to death," Madge says in a trance-like voice. "I still think that counts as the Capitol killing her, though, don't you? Since the only reason she even had the morphling was because they gave her those headaches."

She feels Gale kiss the top of her head, which breaks something in her and causes her to start sobbing again. How many times has she cried about the horrible way her parents died and when will it stop feeling like someone pummeling her insides into mush? And how can she not have parents anymore?

At some point she runs out of tears and registers Gale leading her back to the fallen tree and their backpacks, where he has her sit down and bundles her legs in a blanket and pushes a thick, woolly sweater over her head. The sweater smells like him and she could happily never take it off. He sits next to her on the ground so they're both leaning against the log, facing the ashy remains of the abandoned fire. The finishing touch on their nest is Zipper, who Gale orders to sit in between them. Zipper, happy to be with his pack, curls up and rests his head on Gale's leg.

"Try to get some sleep," Gale says gently, putting his arm around her so she can rest her head on him. "As soon as it's light enough to see again, we can keep moving."

Madge doubts she can sleep under these conditions, but she does feel warmer now and if she has to be stuck on a mountain all night, she's glad she's with Gale. Zipper makes her feel a little better, too, though he's sleeping so soundly she wonders how useful he'll be at alerting them to any dangers.

Staring at the charred branches in the makeshift fire pit, Madge thinks about how of course Gale isn't scared of fires. He isn't scared of anything. Gale must be thinking about the campfire, too, because he starts talking, his voice a low comforting rumble in her ear as she rests her head against his chest.

"Campfires to me mean warming up on a cold day. And cooked meat and roasted chestnuts. Good things."

Madge never had campfires in her life. The only fires she knows are the ones from the night of the bombing—her family's fireplace didn't even work. She listens as Gale tells her about his father teaching him how to make fires in the woods outside District 12, and feels slightly buoyed by the hints of happiness in his voice, describing another era when he was more carefree. Maybe she'll be like that, too, eventually: able to think about her parents without being assaulted by terrifying, vivid memories of how they died.

#

Madge is still dozing next to him, and he's relieved she's both getting some sleep and has turned off her brain for a few hours. Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about not going with her back to District 12… Well, at least he was able to help her calm down. It's a start on making it up to her.

The soft breeze from the afternoon has been steadily picking up strength as the night wears on and he hears the whistling of the leaves before he feels the wind on his skin. He pulls his jacket closer around his arms and smoothes Madge's hair from where the wind ruffled it. She burrows into him a little further and he wishes he could do the last few months over again. The last _year_, since he's wishing.

Looking upward to the sky, he's encouraged to see stars instead of clouds. Madge is tougher than he expected, but getting drenched when they're already so cold is a problem they could do without. He smiles slightly as he looks back at Madge and Zipper, both slumbering. If someone had told him two years ago that he would be sitting on a mountainside outside District 2 with Madge Undersee and her family's pet dog in the middle of the night, he would have scoffed at the absurdity of it. But here they are.

At the first hint of the sun approaching the horizon, he nudges Madge awake and is entertained at her apparent embarrassment that she fell asleep. They eat some snacks and start moving right away since it's still cold and walking will warm them up. Gale loves this time of day: the shift from night to dawn, when so many animals are stirring. He hadn't thought to set up any snares last night, but it doesn't matter—he couldn't have cooked the meat anyway without scaring Madge again. They had trail mix earlier and should be fine until they reach the village, hopefully in the afternoon.

By mid-morning they've crossed into the next valley and Gale lets them take a break near a stream so he can purify some water. Zipper tries to fish again while Madge sits quietly on a rock. She hasn't said much all morning. Maybe this is just how she is, though—he's never spent this many consecutive hours with her, which is strange to realize. Maybe she's still upset about everything they've been through since yesterday. Understandably.

They push onward up the next ridge and he's pleased with their progress, although he can tell Madge is getting tired because she's dragging farther behind him and Zipper. Scanning the rest of the hill, he decides they can take another break when they reach the top. Then he spots movement and freezes, still on edge about the possibility of mutts. But a mass of white fur reveals itself to be a mountain goat, majestically watching over the slope from a large, outcropped rock. He studies the animal for a few seconds, thrilled to finally see one after reading about them in his books, and then turns around to point it out to Madge.

But he can't see her. Quickly retracing his steps down the rocky slope, he berates himself for letting her fall behind. Finally he spots her—sprawled awkwardly on the ground with her eyes closed.

"Madge!" He kneels next to her and shakes her gently.

Her eyes open and stare at him, glassy. She blinks and he helps her sit up, realizing too late that he's been pushing their pace too hard and that she probably isn't used to not eating.

"I think you passed out," he explains apologetically as makes her drink some water. She looks pale. "You need to eat, too, Madge," he says, digging through his bag. He pulls out the trail mix they nibbled on earlier, but clearly that wasn't good enough. "I still have the rest of that sandwich… Somewhere…"

"No, it's gone. I gave it to Zipper last night," she says distantly, causing Gale to stop pawing through his backpack and stare at her in horror.

"He's a dog!"

"He seemed hungry. And he slobbered all over that sandwich."

"Well, now you're fainting and he's doing just fine." Gale glares at Zipper for not refusing the sandwich. "We still have at least ten miles to go." He angrily shoves his backpack on the ground and pushes the trail mix back into Madge's hands. "Eat more of that or we'll never make it out of here." He slouches against a nearby tree trunk, frustrated with himself for not taking a town girl's delicate sensibilities into account. It's no big deal for him to skip eating until they hit the village, but if he'd known Madge would get this weak from hunger he could have been at least looking for edible berries as they hiked.

Madge isn't even eating the stupid trail mix, just staring at a handful of it as though her brain isn't functioning well enough to lift her hand to her mouth and start chewing.

"Anytime now, Madge," he warns.

"I'm _sick_ of trail mix!" she suddenly shouts, hurling the handful she'd been holding onto the ground. Zipper pounces on the scattered nuts. "And I'm _tired_ and _dirty_ and you're making us go too fast and_ I'm not Katniss_!"

He freezes; Katniss has nothing to do with their predicament. He has no idea how to respond and is alarmed at how worked up Madge is getting.

"I know Katniss would never complain or feed a sandwich to a dog, even if it was disgusting, which it totally was. You guys would probably already be in the village by now and have killed twenty deer and be dragging them along behind you so you could sell the antlers!"

Why is she comparing herself to Katniss? Why especially to how Katniss used to be rather than how she is now? And does Madge not realize Zipper has been scaring off all the deer?

"I bet even now, even after what I told you yesterday about my parents, you still wouldn't go with me to District 12. Because you'll always put me second."

Realization hits. "That's what this is about?"

Madge looks at him with an icy pout.

"You're wrong," he says, pushing off his tree and moving to stand in front of her. "There's a difference between not being there for you and actively harming her. It was a strategic decision," he says bluntly. "I had to make them in the war all the time. They weren't always right, but that one was."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Gale," Madge says stonily. "To forever be second place to someone you think hates you."

"That's not it," he says sharply. "You could handle seeing 12 better than she could handle seeing me. No matter what I did, I was going to hurt one of you, and I knew you would be able to get over it better than she would." He sees Madge looking at him cautiously and hopes it's because she can see the truth behind his words.

"She gave up," he admits quietly, still haunted by the memories of that eerie singing and the knowledge that Katniss was trying to kill herself through passivity in her training center jail during her trial. "They squeezed everything they could out of her until there was nothing left and she gave up. Even at home during the worst part of winter when we were starving and hadn't found anything in the forest worth eating for weeks at a time, she kept fighting. But without Prim… I might as well have killed both of them…"

The air feels thin and he can't blame the elevation. "No thanks to me, she eventually found it in her to keep going. Haymitch and Peeta and Greasy Sae deserve all the credit." Thank goodness they could help… "Madge, I couldn't hurt her anymore or risk her relapsing."

He sees Madge watching him with a confused expression, which turns into a frown. "But she can't actually blame you for Prim," she says, sounding frustrated. "That bomb should never have been made or used, and obviously you wouldn't have hurt children! And you loved Prim, too, Gale. You took care of her all those years…"

"I know," he snaps, tears pricking his eyes before he squeezes them shut in an attempt to head them off. He hasn't felt like he even deserved to mourn Prim because he's been so consumed with guilt for his role in her death. But even hearing her name conjures memories of how she'd smile whenever he and Katniss came home with wild apples and how lovingly she doted on that ugly yellow cat. She would have been fascinated by that mountain goat he just saw, probably making a joke about how it could have been friends with Lady. But neither Prim nor Lady exist anymore.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Madge holding out her hand to him from her spot on the rock. She's not perfect either, and knowing that helps somehow. But mostly he's reminded that she still wants him near her, despite knowing full well how dangerous he is and how wrong that bomb was.

He takes her hand and lets her pull him next to her on the rock, where as soon as he's seated she leans into him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. He automatically slides his arm around her waist and consciously tries to squelch the persistent guilt at how easily they fit together and how much better she makes him feel.

"I wish I could take it back," he says into her hair.

He feels her sigh and tangle her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. "I know you do. We all wish a lot of things."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Bad guy crisis averted for the moment… Although maybe the bad guys are good guys for forcing these two to talk to each other. Either way, sorry there wasn't a shoot out.


	13. Out of the Woods

**Chapter 13: Out of the Woods**

Madge is surprised at the urge to run because her legs feel like bricks, but as soon as the little village comes into view at the base of the valley running is all she can think about doing. Food. Telephones. Toilets!

Gale puts his hand on her arm, as if sensing her imminent race, and scans the road leading from the valley to their current location. "Careful. They might be expecting us here."

"What can they do? It's a busy Saturday afternoon." Gale being famous works in their favor now; nobody would try anything with so many witnesses. And she really, really wants to get back to her aunt and uncle's house to take a shower and change into clothes that aren't… disgusting.

Gale keeps glancing around suspiciously as they descend the rocky slope, and finally approves of approaching a small food market on the outskirts of the village to ask if they can use a phone. From the shopkeeper's surprised expression as he points them to the phone on the front counter, Madge suspects Gale's fame is helping them with this task, too. They tie Zipper outside and then debate who to call first, finally deciding on Simon since the sensitive nature of the theft of Madge's phone and notes trumps damage to military property.

"Madge?" Simon answers after the first ring, and she can hear the mingled anxiety and relief in his tone. "_Where are you?_ We've been trying to find you all day. Are you with Gale? Are you all right?"

"We're fine, we're in Ponderosa Village in District 2. We went hiking yesterday but the car battery was stolen and we had to walk all the way back."

"That's all? I thought you were in trouble when you kept calling this morning and not answering when I'd call back. Your aunt and uncle and I have been worried, Madge," he scolds. "I even sent Rogers and Amos to Gale's apartment to break up your little love nest because he wasn't picking up and his answering device isn't accepting new messages."

Embarrassing: her aunt and uncle and Simon _and her coworkers_ all assumed she and Gale had locked themselves in his apartment and were ignoring the outside world. While the idea does have appeal, she would never be that inconsiderate. She glances at Gale, who's standing close enough to her that he might be able to hear Simon speaking. She hopes he missed the love nest comment.

"Simon," Madge says firmly, hoping to leave those assumptions behind. "My phone was stolen."

He goes quiet and she knows he's trying to calculate what information might have been compromised. Her phone only stored the numbers for him and the team members she travels with, but that's still several phones he's going to have to deactivate immediately.

"Why don't you—carefully—explain what happened," he says. Code for 'don't disclose anything confidential' because this isn't a secure line. Madge glances at the shopkeeper, who's busy reorganizing a display of canned goods but is obviously listening. And Gale definitely is, watching her with rapt eyes.

Madge describes their hike from the construction area and how when they returned at dusk, the car battery "and the phone and other things" were missing so they had to spend the night on the mountain and hike to the nearest village.

"What 'other things,' Madge?"

She hears the warning note in his voice and winces. "Remember when we were in District 7? The thing I couldn't find because you'd taken it?" Her notebook of theories, which Simon had picked up to prove a point about her carelessness because she'd left it unprotected in their makeshift office one night. She can tell he remembers because a weary exhale echoes in her ears.

"You'll have to call me back," he directs and then promptly moves on. "Any threats at the moment?"

"Not that I know of." Nobody followed them into the store, although obviously people noticed Gale walking through town. "Gale's anxious to call his commanding officer about the damage to the jeep."

"I'll call, it's a joint jurisdiction issue now. I assume Prince Charming is standing next to you, listening and glaring? Put him on."

Madge passes the phone to Gale, who was indeed mid-glare. Gale gives Simon his commanding officer's name and contact information and describes where the car is and where they are now.

"I need to know what's going on," Gale says firmly. His glare grows more fierce as he listens and he finally says "fine" before shoving the phone back into Madge's hands.

"The army will send a car to pick you two up and take you to your family's home," Simon tells her briskly. "Call me when you get there. I'm sending a team to help Gale's buddies retrieve and inspect the vehicle. Stay alert."

"We will," Madge agrees meekly before hanging up. The trouble she's caused is starting to sink in… Simon is going to have to cancel the phones, coordinate with the army about the jeep, dispatch a team to make sure no bugs or other traps were left in the vehicle, call her aunt and uncle… And Gale probably won't like hearing that her coworkers broke into his apartment.

Gale looks frustrated. "He wouldn't tell me—"

Madge presses her finger to his lips. "Let's wait outside. I'll pick out some food and meet you where we tied up Zipper."

Scowling, Gale exits while Madge starts shopping for liquids and food that isn't shriveled or dehydrated. Maybe she can't hunt for meals, but she's good at buying things. She finds Gale outside on the porch, sitting on the single step and feeding Zipper pieces of jerky. Joining him, she passes over a bright blue drink, which he uncaps and sniffs skeptically.

"It has vitamins and minerals," she explains. It's a delicious, sugary concoction Simon introduced her to when they moved to the Capitol.

Gale takes a sip of the blue drink and promptly spits it out onto the dusty road. "What the _hell_—"

Madge sighs, pulls the bottle out of his hands, and passes him a fresh sandwich instead. He'd deny being picky, but he'd probably also deny that the health drink qualifies as food.

While he's busy unwrapping the sandwich, Madge says quietly, "That phone line wasn't secure and we don't know who might be listening or watching us. What did Simon tell you when you asked for the whole story?"

"He gave me some crap about calling from your aunt and uncle's house, paperwork, blah blah. You said he'd authorize telling me," he accuses.

Madge smiles. "The phone at their house is secure, and you already took the oath and signed the confidentiality paperwork—remember? That was his way of signaling that he couldn't tell you yes just yet. He'll have to describe the parameters."

"He'd better," Gale threatens. But she can hear the cautious optimism in his voice.

"Gale, I should tell you something else…" He freezes and stares at her, waiting for her to continue. "Simon put me on involuntarily leave," she confesses. "I'm not taking time off because I wanted to."

Gale immediately launches into suspicious mode. "Because you were investigating his scummy brother's scummy quarry?"

"You didn't think anything was wrong with the quarry," she reminds him.

"Maybe there is, maybe there isn't. But Simon shouldn't be influencing investigations involving his family."

Madge kicks a pebble, annoyed at having to defend Simon on this. But she doesn't like Gale always assuming the worst about him.

"I thought he sent me away because he didn't like that I wouldn't let go of the investigation into the quarry," she says. "But he might have been worried about me." She scrunches her nose, not wanting to admit this to herself much less to Gale, but at the same time wanting to tell him the things she _can_ tell him about. "I started taking a lot of… medications after I visited District 12. To help me sleep, to help me wake up… He said they were interfering with my work."

"Were they?"

Madge focuses on Zipper's rib cage moving in and out as he breathes, sleeping by Gale's feet. "Maybe," she says evasively. If being late, not being able to concentrate, and snapping at everyone count as interfering with work. Which they do… She could have run into real trouble if she'd had to go undercover or visit any of the districts when she was like that rather than working in the main office. Now that she's gotten all the chemicals out of her system, she can admit that she's thinking more clearly. Aside from the fact that she's dangerously fatigued at the moment.

"If he overreacted, I understand why," she says. "His mom also had problems with morphling. And he was with me when we found my mom, which may have triggered a reaction…"

Gale has stopped eating his sandwich and is watching her closely. "Are you… all right now?"

She nods. After a few bad days, she got to the point of being able to sleep at night at Dusty and Perri's house, and once she didn't need the pills to sleep she didn't need the other pills to help her wake up. Or the _other_, other pills to balance out her moods…

Gale reaches for her hand and squeezes it. Madge smiles at him, grateful for the gesture of support. Eventually he'll probably have to acknowledge at least appreciating Simon, but maybe for Gale that means refraining from a nasty comment.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne?"

The shadow from a looming figure lands on them and Gale pulls his hand back. A red-haired young woman about their age is looking down at them with a questioning expression, and out of the corner of her eye Madge notices Gale glaring.

"Is something wrong here in the village?" the woman asks while opening a massive purple polka dot handbag and pawing through it. "Can I get an exclusive?"

She pulls out a small recording device—Madge has a few of those herself, though people don't usually know when she's using them—and pushes it toward Gale's face.

He shoves it away. "There's no story here."

The reporter looks momentarily disappointed until her eyes drift to Madge, who immediately wants to hide behind Gale. Both to maintain her low profile and because of her no doubt horrifying appearance. The snarls in her hair! The dirt covering every inch of exposed skin! Her filthy clothes! The reporter reaches for a camera while eyeing Madge hungrily.

Gale leans backward, gazing cooly at the reporter. "Darcy Scott, Free Press," he says in a level tone, drawing the reporter's attention, apparently surprised that he knows her name and newspaper. Unlike Madge, Gale seems to gain confidence from being dirty and tired and unkempt.

He waits a few more seconds until he's sure he has the reporter's entire focus and then continues. "Third row, you usually sit on the aisle so you can make a quick exit. Good strategy." Turning to Madge, he says casually, "She's one of the better ones. I was considering moving her up to the front row so her paper could raise its profile." He looks back at the reporter and adds, "Since it's one of the few that actually makes a distinction between news and gossip. I'd hate to see those standards lowered."

The reporter stares blankly at Gale for a few seconds before smirking and pushing her camera and recording device back into her purse. "Glad to hear it's just another peaceful day in the village. Enjoy the evening."

Gale nods as the reporter walks inside the store, and Madge leans over to quickly kiss his cheek, the bristles tingling on her lips.

"Thank you." She beams at how he not only deterred the reporter but didn't cause a scene. In fact, she hasn't noticed any tabloid programs airing footage recently of him yelling at reporters or breaking cameras—he must finally be learning how to deal with all the unwanted attention.

He seems startled at the kiss and then smiles slyly back at her. "I'm training them. They're like Zipper."

She laughs at the mental image of reporters trying to catch bees in their jaws or barking impatiently when someone doesn't throw a stick promptly enough. They do respond eagerly to the sight of Gale, though, so maybe the comparison works.

#

They reach Madge's aunt and uncle's house less than an hour later, having been delivered by a black van with military plates and three uniformed soldiers as escorts. Madge had nodded off almost as soon as she buckled her seatbelt, lulled to sleep by fatigue, the hum of the engine, and the murmur of Gale and the other soldiers talking about what he and Madge had been through.

She wakes up when the van stops outside Dusty and Perri's house, immediately sitting upright from where she'd been leaning on Gale. He removes his arm from around her shoulder and opens the car door, grinning. "Home."

She's so eager to get out she crawls over him and flies toward the house, Zipper close behind her.

Perri is opening the front door and catches Madge in a tight hug. "You're all right? Your friend Simon said you had to hike over 20 miles since last night."

"We're fine," Madge says, relaxing at the familiar smell of Perri's soap. "Gale had emergency gear and got us to the village."

"I didn't realize that construction zone was so crime-ridden," Dusty says as he hugs Madge with the arm that isn't holding a squirming, whimpering-with-joy Zipper.

"It's lawless in a lot of ways," Gale says, joining them as he sets their backpacks near the front door. Madge can see him watching Zipper in Dusty's arms disapprovingly and realizes Zipper probably got there via his jumping antics that Gale's been trying to cure.

"I'll coordinate with the guard forces to see that security teams patrol that area now," Dusty offers.

Gale nods. "Good idea. There are so many groups prospecting out there, I wouldn't be surprised if they're starting to fight with each other before they even get a chance to make their claims. Madge and I might have stumbled onto a turf war."

Perri releases Madge and moves to shut the front door, sighing and shaking her head in disgust. "This is what happened before. Before the Dark Days. Not that anyone would know, since the Capitol ensured nothing useful was taught in the schools."

Madge can agree with that, familiar with this particular rant.

"Fighting over land and resources nearly destroyed us before," Perri explains, apparently for Gale's benefit. "Panem was organized around the idea of eliminating those conflicts through central control and dividing the districts according to specialty. Consolidating power and wealth in the Capitol, of course. Though we saw how well that turned out."

Madge recognizes the frustrated expression on Gale's face, and Perri must be able to read his moods now too because she adds, "Getting your land distribution proposal out sooner rather than later would be helpful, Gale. Eliminate some of this uncertainty people are trying to take advantage of."

He gives a tight nod and Perri doesn't say anything else on the topic, instead offering to heat up a chicken casserole for them. It sounds warm and nourishing and perfect. Madge is looking longingly down the hallway toward the bathroom—she's mere meters away from a hot shower!—when Gale turns to her.

"Let's call Simon now."

Calling Simon probably _is_ more important than a shower at the moment, although not by much. She leads Gale to the spare bedroom where she stays when she visits. It's practically as empty as her apartment in the Capitol, but it does have a phone.

Simon answers quickly. "Hold on." Clicking sounds indicate she's been put on hold, cutting off the muffled sound of varied voices in the background. A few seconds later Simon's voice returns without any ambient noise. "Sorry, had to switch rooms."

"Who's visiting?"

"What?"

"Who is at your house?"

"My brother, a few friends. They stopped by but they're in the other room; this line is secure. Talk, Madge. What weren't you telling me before?"

"So your brother's visiting right now?" Madge repeats for Gale's benefit, biting her lip anxiously as she looks at him and debating how much she should tell Simon. And since when does he have friends other than her? "Your brother still doesn't know what you and I do, does he?"

"I haven't told him if that's what you're suggesting," Simon says icily.

Not quite, though she wouldn't be surprised if his brother figured it out, since he was already suspicious. What if Gale isn't the one who had been recognized at the quarry or the staging area? The thief also called Simon repeatedly from her phone, which he no doubt answered with comments like 'Madge, stop screwing around' and 'What is your problem, Madge?' before figuring out something was off. And Simon's brother knows her name and obviously knows Simon's voice…

"What exactly was stolen, Madge?" Simon prompts. "You weren't supposed to be working."

"I had been making some notes for myself," she admits. "Trying to fit it all together in my head based on what I remembered." She explains to him about the trailer that had vanished and how two people turned up to verify its disappearance. "Gale might recognize the people again, and it was his car that was vandalized. I think we need to bring him in on this, Simon, at least for limited disclosures."

Simon asks to speak to Gale again, and Madge watches anxiously as Gale listens in stony silence punctuated only by occasional utterances of "yes" and "of course" (usually in an offended tone). But when he hands the phone back to her, he's wearing a satisfied smile—Simon must have authorized the disclosures.

"Well, you got your way once again, Madgelet," Simon tells her. "You and your war hero can theorize to your heart's content. Assuming you're not too distracted with whatever else you guys do together. But I want both of you in the office as soon as possible tomorrow. Gale can be back in District 2 by Monday. And stay out of trouble."

Madge hangs up the phone and turns toward Gale. His smile is infectious: she throws her arms around him and lets him lift her off the ground into a hug. Being allowed to tell him what she's been working on feels like a victory she didn't know she'd been fighting for.

"We have to go to the Capitol to meet with Simon," she says when he sets her on the ground again.

"Tonight?" Gale squints at her and rubs his eyes. "You need to rest. I do, too."

He hasn't even dozed since they started their trip and his bloodshot eyes look like they're being pulled downward by the drooping skin underneath. She's not up for the train ride to the Capitol, either.

"We'll stay in District 2 tonight," she says, deciding on a course of action. Turning to her dresser, she starts transferring its contents to her suitcase. "We can walk over to the train station from your house tomorrow morning and catch the first train."

"You aren't staying… here tonight?"

It hadn't even occurred to her, but Gale sounds surprised. "Is that all right?" she asks. True, it was rude to invite herself over to his house, but she assumed he wouldn't mind. "If someone is targeting us, I don't want to endanger Dusty and Perri by staying here, and I don't want you to be alone, either." As exhausted as she is, if she stayed here tonight she would be so uneasy about Gale being by himself that she knows she would wake up constantly and have to call to check on him, which would mean neither of them getting much sleep. So really, it's safer and _healthier_ if they stay together tonight.

Gale nods slowly. "Of course it's all right. I asked the squad stationed in the village to keep an eye on the house tonight, but you're right that we're the likely targets. If we were at my house, it would be safer for your aunt and uncle."

He sounds like he's rationalizing as desperately as she is and frowns slightly as he glances at the doorway. Lowering his voice he asks, "They won't mind?"

Madge blinks innocently at him. "How could they mind? It's the safest course of action." Gale stares at her like she's an idiot for a few seconds until she lets him off the hook with a smile to show that she does understand his concern. "I can do what I want." She shrugs. "It's what they thought last night anyway. And I'm sure you have a couch or an extra sleeping bag I could use, right?"

"I do," he says, raising his eyebrows. "You can sleep wherever you want."

She feels her face warm at the implication and can only hope that all the dirt is camouflaging her blush. "OK then," she says, pushing past him and practically running into the bathroom for her reunion with hot water.

#

They wave good-bye to Dusty and Perri after being dropped off in the parking lot of Gale's apartment complex, Zipper's tortured yips fading as the car recedes from view.

"He'll be OK," Madge says sympathetically, putting her hand on Gale's arm.

"He needs discipline," Gale grouses. "How can Perri be such a hard-ass about everything except Zipper? Did you see her sneaking him scraps at dinner?"

"I think she's mellowing," Madge murmurs as she starts her scan of the darkened parking lot for suspicious figures. Gale should be grateful Perri is mellowing out; she didn't do much more than frown in judgmental disapproval when they explained why _safety required_ that they be dropped off at Gale's house before catching the train to the Capitol. Madge had purposefully been vague about whether they were catching the last train tonight or the first train tomorrow morning, and Gale had insisted he needed to check on any damage Madge's coworkers had inflicted on his apartment when they broke in.

After a few seconds she senses Gale also turning his attention to assessing possible threats in the parking lot. Madge feels much more competent here than she did in the forest: scanning urban settings for surveillance tech and overly casual loiterers is much more her scene than avoiding becoming breakfast for a bear.

"Looks clear," she says quietly. Gale agrees and leads her up the stairs to the second floor. She doesn't spot anything out of the ordinary until they pass a door cracked open just enough for someone inside to monitor all comings and goings. She squeezes Gale's hand and nods toward the door, which he's already noticed.

"Just my asshole neighbor," he says loudly. "Ignore him."

Too late. The door swings open and a slovenly man leers at them, triggering Madge to instinctively recoil. "Blonde, huh, Hawthorne? I thought you liked brunettes—"

In a single fluid motion, Gale kicks the door with all his body weight. The door shuts seconds before Gale's foot makes contact, though, so he kicks it one more time in retaliation and pounds a fist on it for good measure. Madge notices a series of similar scuff marks on the paint; this has clearly happened before.

"Sometimes he's hard to ignore," Gale explains as he stands in front of the next door over, squinting suspiciously at it. Madge recognizes the number as Gale's address and does her own inspection but doesn't find anything alarming.

Gale opens the door, tosses his backpack on the floor, pulls out his gun, and walks down the hallway into the rest of the apartment. While he's checking for intruders, Madge studies the living room and kitchen. A small table and a cluttered island dominate the kitchen side of the apartment's front area, and maps are tacked up all over the walls.

She starts digging under the piles of unopened mail on the island in search of the phone; apparently Gale ignores all communication forms equally. Honestly, she's going to have to do something about this. Finally she finds the phone and dismantles the receiver, confirming that it's not tapped. Good sign. Less impressive: the red blinking '30' on the answering device, apparently the limit for recording new messages. She's going to have to do something about that, too.

Gale reappears and stows his gun on the nearly empty shelves in the living room. "Nobody hiding in the closets or bathtub."

"Good," she says distractedly, moving deeper into the kitchen and running her hands under the cupboards to check for wires, transmitters, and microphones. "It's too bad you don't get along with your neighbor—he could have told us if anyone suspicious was hanging around."

"Worth the risk," Gale mutters. "I hate that guy." He doesn't seem to know what to make of Madge pulling a chair toward the refrigerator so she can stand on it and look at the upper cupboards. "Are you spying on _me_ now?"

"I'm making sure no one planted anything here," she corrects. "It would be easy to figure out where you live and the equipment is all over the black market in District 3. And the lock on your door is a joke."

She moves to hop off the chair, only to find Gale standing below her. For once, she's taller than him and she can't resist pushing her hands through his hair from this new angle. His locks feel thick with trail grime but he doesn't seem to mind, focused instead on Madge.

"You _could_ spy on me," he says as he slips his arms around her and lifts her off the chair. She slides along his body until her feet hit the floor again. "I'm not hiding anything from you."

No, he doesn't seem to be. Specifically, he's not hiding that he's thinking about kissing her. The expression in his eyes is almost too intense and Madge is grateful he's still holding her upright. He waits only for her tug on his shirt—pulling him toward her—as an invitation. She's thought a _lot_ about this moment, and in her daydreams, this kiss was always slow and gentle. In reality, it only starts out that way—they both seem to be in a hurry, as though determined to get as much as they can of each other while they can. Within seconds Madge feels like she traveled backward in time to those urgent, heated moments right before Perri had walked in on them in the kitchen after she'd shocked Gale by suddenly reappearing in his life. That was before things had gotten complicated, when they could simply react to the gift of being within kissing distance…

Madge hears the sound of paper crinkling and realizes Gale maneuvered her against the kitchen wall where all his maps are taped up. He doesn't seem to mind his maps getting wrinkled, though, and Madge can't bring herself to care either. Somehow they slide together down the wall, and right as Madge feels herself sitting on the floor, a cascade of paper showers over her.

The maps. Folding and twisting in the air, burying them. Gale swears loudly and bats the papers away, which only leaves him even more tangled in them. A large one lands on his head and drapes over his shoulders like a freakish hat, triggering Madge to start laughing. He peers out from under it with a hostile expression that slowly morphs into a smile as he pushes the map off his head.

"I didn't realize they were so connected like that," he says, glancing up at the now-empty wall.

Madge pushes papers out of her way so she can crawl over to him. "You need to shave," she says, moving her hand along his cheek. As nice as those bristles are to look at, they left her skin slightly raw.

He rubs his jaw. "I was on my way to take a shower. Guess I got distracted." Grinning, he leans in toward Madge again, but she puts an arm out to push him back.

"I need to finish checking your house. Go take your shower, and can you get me a blanket or a sleeping bag so I can sleep on the couch?"

Gale looks like she suggested surviving on nothing but that blue health drink he spat out earlier. "The couch? But you were just—"

"We still have a lot to talk about," she says, standing up so she won't be as tempted by him. "But for right now we need to sleep."

He stands up, too, glowering at Madge and almost starting to speak but then cutting himself off, which confirms that he agrees. Finally he resorts to his Gale default setting of being semi-angry.

"You're not sleeping on that couch," he decrees, pointing at the couch like it's responsible for his bad mood. "It's lumpy. You take the bed, I'll take the couch." Then he spins and storms down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Unconcerned with his reaction—Gale being bossy and grouchy is normal, Madge continues her inspection but doesn't find anything suspicious in the living room or kitchen. The sound of the shower running starts by the time she reaches his bedroom doorway, where she observes that he doesn't even have a normal bed, just a mattress! And he keeps his clothes in piles in the floor rather than in the perfectly functional dresser!

Curious what he uses the dresser for if not clothing, she opens the top drawer. It holds two items: a picture of her from a few years ago—it must be the picture he stole from her grandparents' house—and that necklace he made of their cemetery shed key. Was this his attempt to forget about her? Shove any memories away in an unused drawer? Well, she's not hiding in a drawer anymore. She walks the photograph out to the kitchen and attaches it to the refrigerator with a magnet. That's what her parents did at home with pictures of her; Gale can carry on the tradition. As for the necklace… She loops it around her own neck.

The other drawers are empty, and she doesn't find any signs of surveillance technology. She does notice a spare blanket folded on the mattress, though, and picks it up to take with her to the couch. She wants a pillow, too, and scoots up the mattress to grab the extra one. It smells like Gale and his bed is so comfortable… Maybe she'll just rest here until he gets out of the shower…

#

Hot water available with the flick of his wrist is definitely a positive aspect of winning the war. But the heat and steam wash away the layers of dirt that have been propping his eyes open, and the need for sleep becomes overwhelming, eclipsing even his need for certain blonde minxes. Madge was right—they need to talk—but she makes talking a poor second choice activity when she smiles at him, or looks at him, or basically just breathes near him because the fact that she does that—_breathes_—means she's not dead, like he thought for so long.

He pauses when he walks into his bedroom, eyes drawn to a Madge-shaped lump on top of the covers on his mattress. His bed and Madge are two things he wants most in the world right now, and the combination is perfection. She must have realized he was right about that shitty couch because she's curled up on the side where he usually sleeps, clutching his pillow the way Posy used to hold Mr. Bunny.

He sits down next to her and says quietly, "Madge?"

She shifts slightly and reaches for him, the way she did last night on the mountain when wind gusts or howling coyotes would wake her up, her eyes closed and her hand grasping air until it connected with him. This time her hand lands on his shoulder and she pulls him toward her.

"I-don't-want-to-sleep-alone," she mumbles with her eyes still closed.

He doesn't either, and decides this counts as her changing her mind about the couch. Scooting onto the bed, he pulls her into an embrace at the same time she curls into his body.

#

He wakes up to the sound of knocking but he can't tell if it's at his door or one of his neighbors. Sunlight is streaming in through the window, meaning he's slept later than he usually does, but he still feels exhausted. Then he notices Madge sleeping peacefully next to him, and the last couple of days rush back into his memory, which explains why he's still so tired.

Leaving this bed is not an option. He probably dreamed the knocking. He realizes his hand somehow snaked its way under Madge's shirt to grasp her waist, and carefully pulls his hand back so it won't be quite so obvious that he's governed almost entirely by hormones. He closes his eyes again, but a few seconds later Madge shifts—she must be waking up—and he feels her snuggling up even closer to him and… _kissing his jaw_. He abandons trying to sleep and pulls her onto his chest, opening his eyes.

She stares back at him and he wonders momentarily whether she remembers intending to sleep on the couch last night. What an idiotic idea that was. Her hair is cutely tousled from sleep, reminding him that he liked how she looked while they hiked for precisely this reason: associations with bed head and what it implies…

Madge starts smoothing his own bed head, and from this vantage point and the way the neck of her shirt is gaping, he decides he is definitely not going anywhere. She can try to fix his hair forever. Screw the plans to go to the Capitol to meet with Simon.

A loud rapping at the front door distracts her momentarily and she frowns, cocking her head sideways to listen more carefully the way Zipper does. Gale is instantly annoyed that he didn't dream the knocking.

"Ignore it," he tells her. "Probably reporters."

The knock repeats. Impatiently.

"What if it's the people who messed with the car?" she asks in a hushed voice, sitting up.

"Why would they knock?" Gale points out, sitting up as well and cursing whoever is bothering them. But he can tell Madge is distracted and her shirt's neckline has righted itself, wrecking his view, so he might as well get rid of the intruder or she won't be able to concentrate on _him_. "I'm answering that door with my gun," he warns as he crawls off the bed. "If it's the assholes who stole the battery, I'm shooting them. If it's reporters, I'm shooting them."

Madge looks slightly alarmed at his vehemence and scrambles to follow him, which further annoys him because how is he going to get her back onto the bed? She'll probably make them go visit Simon like they're supposed to. Or _talk_. But he'll deal with that later. For now, he'll peer through the one-way window in the front door before actually loading his gun again.

All thoughts of reporters and potential thieving villains evaporate. He can't unlock the door quickly enough, and seconds later flings it open to his mother, Rory, Vick, Posy, and a pile of luggage.

"Good morning Gale," his mother says calmly.


	14. Reunions

**Chapter 14: Reunions**

Gale is so stunned he doesn't react at first when his mother and Posy hug him. But within seconds his eyes start watering and his throat hurts, and then he can't hug them back tightly enough. When he opens his eyes, he sees Vick and Rory shuffling behind his mother and pulls them into the hug, too. He doesn't want to let go of any of them. How could he possibly have gone this long without these four people?

"Surprise," his mother says, her eyes glistening. "We're a few days early, I hope that's all right." At his confused expression, she narrows her eyes. "You did get my messages before the machine filled up, didn't you?"

He doesn't know what she's talking about, which could be related to the fact that he can't remember the last time he listened to his messages. The committees have been meeting at off-site locations so he hasn't been near his office phone lately either, and then he took Friday off, which led to being stranded in the woods...

His mother shakes her head in disdain. "How do you function…" She trails off as she gazes behind him and he sees her eyes widening. _Madge_. He turns around and takes in Madge standing awkwardly next to the couch, her messy hair and bare feet matching his own.

"Is it really her?" his mother asks, turning back to Gale in disbelief.

"Yeah." He feels a smile creeping over his face, remembering how his mom had picked up on at least some of his feelings about Madge. He watches her approach Madge hesitantly, and then when Madge's face crumbles, sweep her into a hug.

"There, there, dear," she murmurs, patting Madge's head gently. He hears her inquire softly about Madge's parents, which causes Madge to start sobbing. Gale takes a step toward them but then feels Posy tugging on his leg.

"Gale? Is that the crying girl?"

He scoops up Posy into his arms. "Sure is." He'd forgotten Posy gave Madge that name because of her tendency to show up in tears at their house in District 12. Looking toward Madge again, he can see she's being thoroughly comforted by his mother so he leaves them to each other and focuses on Posy. He's pleased to find that she's heavier than he remembers, which confirms they've been eating well in 13. And she's clinging to him so tightly it's clear she won't let him set her down anytime soon, but what else has he been doing so much rock climbing for if not Posy-lifting?

"Come in," he gestures with his free arm to Rory and Vick, who seem to be on luggage duty. Gale grabs one of the suitcases and hefts it inside. "Umph. How much did you bring?"

Rory sullenly lifts the next two largest suitcases inside so Vick answers. "Everything."

Gale freezes. "What?"

His mother looks up from comforting Madge. "Train tickets are expensive. What if we like it here? We don't have much. It was easier to pack everything."

"What if we _don't_ like it here?" Rory grumbles.

"We're special refugees, Gale," Vick explains seriously as he hauls a suitcase inside. "We get money to relocate in any district, although we also get a housing bonus if we go back to 12."

Gale knows how the program works, having sat through nauseatingly long meetings about its development. In the back of his mind, he assumed his family would eventually take advantage of the bonus and return to 12.

"Boys, you remember Madge Undersee, don't you?" his mother inserts, presenting a blotchy-faced Madge. Gale belatedly realizes he should have introduced Madge, but she was busy crying and he was distracted. He forgot how even the simplest things become chaotic when his whole family is together.

"Hi," Madge says stiffly. "Rory? And Vick?" She waves at Posy, still perched on Gale's hip. "Hi, Posy."

Posy hides her head in Gale's neck, mystifying him. So she's going through a shy phase right now? He feels guilty for not knowing.

Vick steps forward and politely shakes Madge's hand. "Hi, Madge. It's good to see that you survived the war."

"Thank you…" Madge glances at Gale and he has to look away quickly so he doesn't start laughing at Vick's formality. Madge is so fussy about manners, he'll have to remember to hassle her about whether Vick used the proper greeting for someone thought to be dead.

Rory moves forward to shake her hand as well, and takes manners in the opposite direction by turning immediately to Gale afterward. "Did you have a toasting and not even tell us?"

"No," Gale says automatically. He would never celebrate his toasting without them.

"Then why is she living here?" Rory asks, in a tone that suggests he knows very well why Madge might be here in the morning.

"Um, I live in the Capitol," Madge offers, but she's turning red and is scrunching her toes under her feet, as though to hide that she's barefoot.

"She's just visiting," Gale says casually, moving to stand by Madge. "Anyone thirsty? Hungry?" Hawthornes are easily distracted with food.

Rory and Vick make vaguely affirmative sounds before floating into the living room to examine his furniture and the contents of his shelves. His mother disappears down the hallway, no doubt to check out the rest of the apartment under the guise of freshening up. He doesn't stop them—they're here, they're family, and it feels normal for them to be in his business. It's not like he could hide anything from them in 12 or 13. Nothing physical, at least.

Still carrying Posy, he moves to the kitchen and adds water to the tea kettle so it will be ready when his mom finishes snooping. Madge is trying to clear up all the maps they left on the floor last night, blushing as though his family will know exactly how those maps fell off the wall. When she glances at him, he winks purely to see her turn a deeper shade of red.

"How was the train ride, Pose?" he asks as he opens the kitchen cupboards in search of something edible.

"We saw cows yesterday," she reports solemnly. "They were big."

She chatters about other things they saw from the train windows while Gale pulls eggs out of the refrigerator and pushes them into Madge's arms now that she's finished with the maps. "Here, get started on scrambling these, I probably have some grain somewhere, too…"

Madge looks like the egg carton is a bomb and he just suggested she throw herself on it. "I don't know how—"

He stares at her in disbelief. Even if Madge the mayor's daughter didn't cook, surely Madge the war survivor has learned to feed herself. She shakes her head apologetically, blushing again.

"Posy," he says, setting his sister on the counter, "Madge is going to teach you how to scramble eggs."

Posy's eyes light up as she listens to him explain that Madge is first going to crack the eggs into a bowl and heat the pan. While Madge tentatively opens the egg carton, Posy continues her report on their journey.

"Rory didn't talk to Mom the whole trip. He didn't want to come here."

"I still don't," Rory calls from the living room, where he's flopped onto the couch and has his eyes closed, feet on the coffee table.

"Gale, can I look at this book?" Vick holds up one of the dust-covered military strategy books from the shelf in the living room.

"Yeah, sure," Gale says absently. Then it occurs to him that he doesn't want Vick turning into a soldier, so he darts into the living room and replaces the military book with one about the local geology. "This is more interesting, though," he says, putting the military book out of reach. "You wouldn't believe the colors of the rocks here."

While Vick skeptically examines the replacement book, Rory stands and plucks the military book from the top shelf, gazing challengingly at Gale before flopping back onto the couch and pretending to be engrossed with reading. When did Rory grow so tall? More importantly, when did Rory turn into such a punk? With a chill, he wonders if Rory already knows about the bomb…

He's distracted from his thoughts by his mother's reappearance. "This is a lot of space for one person, Gale," she observes. "What does it cost?"

"Three hundred a month." An unheard of sum in District 12, but he doesn't think much about it here because the army covers his housing. He returns to the kitchen and tries to subtly remove shell fragments from the bowl where Madge cracked the eggs.

"Places are cheaper in the outlying villages," Madge adds, looking up from the pan where she'd been fretfully watching butter melt. "My aunt and uncle live in a village about 45 minutes away."

"How much are houses in that area?" his mom asks.

Gale starts choking on his tea, suddenly realizing his mother is inquiring because she's thinking about doing some renting of her own.

Madge pats his back. "OK?"

He nods. He's fine except for having a mother who apparently never listens to him! How many times has he told her that the army could send him somewhere else without warning?

His mother gives him a tight smile and turns her attention back to Madge. "What were you saying about that village, dear?"

Madge launches into a detailed account of the village and her family's history running the quarry, clearly more at ease with this topic than toastings or making sure the butter isn't burning. Which it is. Looks like the cooking lesson is over; she needs remedial tutoring anyway. He takes over while Madge talks, and when the pan is the right temperature, lifts Posy up so she can pour the eggs in. She squeals joyfully at the sizzling, which reminds him that she probably doesn't even remember what it was like to live in a house with a kitchen.

His mom joins them at the stove, looking nostalgically at the pan.

He hands her the spatula. "Have at it." He knows his mom remembers, and misses, having a kitchen.

She accepts the spatula with a grateful smile, and Gale recognizes his opportunity to talk to Madge alone. "Back in a second," he calls over his shoulder as he pulls Madge down the hallway back into his bedroom.

They stare at one another for a few moments just inside the doorway and he thinks Madge seems just as thrown as he is, letting her guard down slightly now that they're alone again. Was it really only half an hour ago that they were lying on his bed together? Everything feels upside down.

"My hair probably looks terrible," she says in a dazed voice.

_That's_ what she's concerned about? "You look fine," he says dismissively.

"Gale," she says more urgently, "your family thinks I'm a… harlot!"

"No they don't. And it takes two to… harlot." He isn't exactly sure what that word means, but it sounds insulting and nobody's thinking anything bad about Madge. His mom was ready to move in next door to the Whistlers, Vick and Posy are too young to know what Madge's morning presence suggested, and Rory was only being a pain to bother Gale. None of it is worth worrying about; the more important issue is the disruption in their plans.

"Madge, I can't go with you to the Capitol to meet with Simon today. I need to stay here with them." He's going to have to buy bedding, and more food…

Madge snaps out of her hair and harlot woes. "Of course. I can fill you in later."

"I'll get a soldier to go with you on the train."

"That's not necessary—"

"Madge," he warns, cutting off her impending huffiness. The thought of letting her out of his sight after what they've been through lately leaves him ill, and until they have better information about what happened he's not sending her off unguarded.

She nods hesitantly. "Fine. Can't hurt."

He rubs his face with his hands, already thinking of his next challenge. "I have to talk to Rory," he mumbles, overwhelmed with actually having to do this and not feeling ready. "He and Prim were friends."

Madge pulls his hands down so he can't hide and clasps them tightly, watching him with her earnest blue eyes for a few seconds before hugging him. It's like she's trying to transfer extra reserves of strength to him, and it does help as a reminder that she already knows how terrible he is and still wants to hug him. Maybe there's at least a chance Rory will eventually see him as something other than a ruthless killing machine, too. He hangs onto her until Vick yells that breakfast is ready, needing this quiet moment.

#

Gale fights the simmering anxiety in his gut as Madge's train slides out of view into the first of the tunnels that will take her to the Capitol. _The soldier escorting her is armed, it's a full train, she should be fine._ Repeating this mantra to himself, he tries to shift his attention back to his family and their shopping trip.

He hangs back with his mom while Vick and Posy race each other down the block, weaving through the other shoppers. Rory walks by himself, a dormant volcano of resentment. Most of his hostility has been directed at Gale, but it extended to Madge by association, though he never said or did anything rude enough that their mother could scold him for.

His mother follows Gale's gaze to Rory. "The last few months have been hard on him. He and Prim were inseparable when you and Katniss were on that final mission. We all had a tough time, and when the reports came out that your team hadn't survived… Well." She's quiet for a moment, and Gale doesn't need to imagine how awful it was; watching Katniss in the Hunger Games taught him everything he didn't want to know about what it feels like to learn from a TV screen that a loved one had been killed.

His mother takes a moment to collect herself and then continues. "Then while we were still in shock, Prim was picked for a medical team. She was gone before we understood what was happening."

Gale watches Rory scowl at a pair of kids his age who'd obviously been training to be Career tributes before the war, and remembers how intensely he hated being left behind when Katniss was in the Hunger Games. Both times. Rory being stuck in District 13 at the end of the war must have been even more terrible: worried about Gale as family, worried about Katniss as almost-family and as Prim's sister and as the symbol of the rebellion… But at least initially Rory had Prim, for whom the same stakes were just as high. With a sickening realization, the scenario reminds Gale of how he came to be friends with Madge—they were both stuck _watching_, unable to do anything significant to stop the terrors. And then Rory lost the most important person helping him cope, like how Gale lost Madge during the bombing of District 12. Only Gale—amazingly, miraculously, incomprehensibly—got Madge back, and Prim isn't coming back. And it's Gale's fault.

He doesn't even want Rory to forgive him; he deserves Rory's loathing. He feels a flash of anger at his mom for ambushing him, for exposing the kids to him when he's been trying to keep them away from his deadly influence. But he fights to push the anger down because she doesn't know the whole story and understandably wanted a family reunion. Getting mad at her won't help anything. The harder thing to do is to tell her…

He stops walking, and glances up the street where Posy and Vick have transitioned from racing to climbing on a statue of a past president that nobody has taken down yet. He can see that Rory, though frowning in annoyance, is keeping an eye on them.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he starts talking. "Mom, remember that work I did in Special Weapons?"

Staring at the sidewalk, he quietly describes designing the bomb, discovering it had been used to end the war, and learning that hundreds of children and families had been damaged by it, including Prim and Katniss and Peeta. Talking to the ground instead of to his mother makes it almost like he's recounting someone else's deadly decisions, even though he feels the weight of the truth every day.

She hugs him, and he doesn't pull away the way he usually does when she pats his back the way she did when he was little. She doesn't say anything, either, which is one of the best things about her—that she always knows what to say and what not to say.

"I have to talk to Rory," Gale finally says. "He's going to hate me. I'd hate me." And Rory is more like him than he cares to acknowledge.

"Gale," his mom says wearily, "take it easy on all the hating. He's your brother; he loves you. Just talk to him. Not talking makes things worse."

He exhales in agreement, aware of having learned that lesson the hard way. "That's what Madge said," he admits.

"Smart girl," his mom murmurs as she takes his arm and they start walking again. "Now. How soon can you arrange for the toasting? You'll want to do a traditional District 12 toasting, won't you? Do you think her relations in this district will mind?"

"I didn't say anything about a toasting," Gale says stiffly. He knew she'd start harping on this. "What you saw this morning wasn't what it looked like." Regretfully, and only because he hadn't had time to convince Madge otherwise before his family turned up… He gives his mom the abbreviated, no danger version of their hike gone awry. "We hadn't slept since Thursday. That's also why I hadn't listened to the messages—we were exhausted."

"You couldn't be exhausted in separate houses?" she asks sweetly.

"No." And he's officially sick of talking about this.

"Maybe you could have a toasting while we're visiting," she continues. "Although I didn't see a fireplace in that apartment. Do her relatives have one?"

"Mom. _Stop_. She wasn't even speaking to me until Friday. We have stuff to sort out."

His mom doesn't say anything, but he can tell she's satisfied she made her point and is only putting a bookmark in the conversation. Which guarantees she'll bring this up again when he least wants to talk about it.

As they approach the statue-turned-jungle-gym, his mom offers to take Vick and Posy to the food market while Gale and Rory do the other shopping. Rory acts like he could care less about which group he's helping, and walks with Gale to the outdoor gear store. Gale wants to get his family thermal sleeping bags, which would be useful in power outages, on camping trips, if another war breaks out…

It's a relief to retreat into the gear and to communicate with Rory only about what sizes of sleeping bags to buy and the best types of cots. On these neutral topics, the air between them feels almost the way it used to. But Rory's hostility returns as they leave the store for Gale's apartment with their purchases.

"How's 13?" Gale asks, still trying to thaw the frostiness. He hasn't spoken directly to Rory in months; usually their mom gives him updates.

"It still sucks."

"School going all right?"

Rory shrugs. Gale knows that shrug well, having employed it many times himself, which in turns makes him annoyed with his past self. He thinks back to how he'd react if someone kept asking stupid questions—he'd want that person to shut up. So he keeps quiet, letting Rory decide when the silence becomes too awkward.

"This district sucks, too," Rory finally says.

"This part does," Gale agrees. The main town in District 2 is drab, and not even the spectacular mountain views can counteract the ugly, block architecture or the attitude problem among the many residents who still consider it a favored district. "But the areas outside the old borders are worthwhile. I can take you out there."

"It's not home," Rory says as though that settles the issue.

"Home isn't home anymore, either."

"More home than this place."

This isn't going anywhere. Gale strains to think of a way he can bring up the bomb… Just come out and say, _I'm the reason you'll never see your best friend again? _

"I can see why you like it here, though," Rory says. "You can afford whatever you want, have a cushy job, and shacked up with the mayor's daughter. Abandoning Katniss really paid off for you. Nice."

"I didn't abandon Katniss," Gale corrects. "And Madge doesn't live with me."

"Just sleeps with you. Like you're making some weird statement about having been more than a guy from the Seam even before the war. Or maybe she's just another one of the girls like the TV shows say—"

"You know that's all crap," Gale cuts in, angry now. "And watch what you say about Madge." He's all for Rory abusing _him_, but Madge is off limits. Rory must sense he was out of line because he closes his mouth with a scowl and doesn't say anything else.

Gale tries to steer the conversation back to what he really needs to talk about. "Rory, Katniss doesn't want to see me, and she's right."

"You said that at her trial but that doesn't make sense," Rory argues. "We're like family to her—she needs us."

"Listen. She blames me for Prim and she's not off-base." He gets the story of the bomb out as quickly as he can. "I know I crossed a line designing that thing… The leaders shouldn't have made it, shouldn't have used it, were sick bastards for setting it off against children. And those shits in 13 shouldn't have sent someone as young as Prim into battle… But none of that changes that I played a part in what happened. Losing Prim nearly destroyed Katniss, and she'll always associate me with it. She needs to heal, which she can't do if I'm around."

Rory stares at him in mute silence.

"So… you're saying that since you can't go back to 12, we can't either?" Rory sounds like he's revving up into being angry.

"I'm giving you the full story so you can make your own decision."

"We have to do whatever Mom says," Rory snaps. "And Posy and Vick will want to go wherever you are, and you want to keep screwing the mayor's daughter so I guess we're moving to this shithole."

He throws the sleeping bags on the ground and storms back toward the shopping district. Gale picks up the sleeping bags and debates whether it's a good sign or not that Rory didn't try to punch him.

#

Madge is grateful her soldier escort isn't attempting to converse with her, instead keeping his eyes constantly scanning the aisles, doorways, and rocky scenery out the windows. His vigilance has left her free to indulge in daydreams about Gale and to remember how natural it had felt to sleep tangled up with him all night and to wake up next to him. Are they actually a couple now? It seems like they are—he kissed her good-bye in front of his family at the train station. That's a very couple-y thing to do.

It's mid-afternoon by the time the train pulls into the depot in the Capitol. Madge immediately spots Simon waiting for her on the crowded platform, and lets the soldier deal with her luggage while she throws herself at him, hugging him tightly, not having realized how much she missed him until seeing him again. How could she have been mad at him for helping her?

A throat clears behind her so she releases Simon and turns around.

"Identification, please," the soldier tells Simon, who looks at him as though he's slow.

"She just jumped on me," Simon says testily.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne instructed me not to leave the subject without confirming the identity of her handler."

Simon hands the soldier his identity card. "How is Lieutenant Hawthorne so good at being a pain in my ass from a district away?"

Madge notices the soldier hide a smile as he reviews Simon's card and wonders if Gale was just being overprotective or purposefully trying to annoy Simon. The soldier is satisfied and leaves with a salute, after which Simon grabs her suitcase and they start walking to their apartment building, only a few brightly colored blocks away.

Madge realizes that with all the chaos of the last few days, she never actually apologized to Simon for behaving so badly when he sent her away. "Simon, I'm sorry I was so difficult before. I was having more trouble with those pills than I realized, and maybe it was affecting my work."

He pauses and raises his eyebrows. "So I'm not a _'Capitol slimebag letting other slimebags get away with everything'_?"

"Did I say that?" Most of her memories of those weeks are foggy… "I didn't mean it."

"Well, it got Fiona's attention. Someone told her—probably Amos, he's always sucking up. She took us both off the investigation of Edwin's business. Gave the file to Amos, and I think he closed it since nobody ever found anything."

Madge slows her pace. "What if I have new evidence?"

"Something you found on your little hiking trip with the war hero?"

She nods.

Simon swallows and looks uneasy. "Then you should tell Amos." Madge keeps watching him, calculating how long it will take him to cave. He's worse than she is, and she knows he's curious about what she may have learned.

She gives him a hook. "I don't _know_ that it's related to Edwin's quarry business… It could be related to my other cases. I should probably look into it on my own before I tell Amos. Can we stop by the office on our way home?"

"Good idea," he says quickly.

He chats with her about office gossip until they reach the familiar building and pass through the layers of security. As they walk into the workroom lined with screens, monitors, and other electronics, Madge realizes how much she missed this place. Even on a Sunday the office is filled with energy and people preparing for the Monday morning briefings.

She and Simon find seats at one of the terminals while Madge explains that she and Gale came across an excavator near land Simon's brother's quarry might have been trying to claim, but that several other groups use that area as well, and Gale hadn't even been positive they were on the parcel the quarry wanted.

"So," she justifies, "I don't actually know if this serial number relates to the quarry business." She connects the camera's drive into the machine, waits for the photos of the serial number to appear, and then runs a search.

Simon leans back in his chair, acting like he doesn't care about the results even though he keeps glancing at the monitor. When a name flashes on, he bolts upright.

"Rare Earth Metals, Inc.," Madge reads. "Never heard of it."

Simon shakes his head to indicate that he's not familiar with the name either, and tabs through the next few screens. "They mine and process elements used in electronics manufacturing. Components in microprocessors and monitors, fiber optics… Looks like they're a new operation—first opened a bank account after the war." He leans back in his chair again. "Huh. Well, guess this does relate to your own work. Good job, Madgelet."

Madge smiles, relieved for his sake there was no link to the quarry and entertaining the idea that she was being unfair to his brother. Maybe these Rare Earth people were the ones who sabotaged Gale's car; they're clearly prospecting near that construction zone. And that area's proximity to both districts 2 and 3 makes it an obvious choice for this type of mining operation. Worth further investigation.

#

Madge wakes up to the sound of a shower running and sunlight streaming in through the window in Simon's living room. She slides off the couch happily, much more alert than the last time she stayed here. Wandering into the kitchen, she briefly considers making coffee, but since she can never remember the right proportions and Simon's coffee maker is so complicated, she convinces herself that she's in the mood for tea.

As she sips her Earl Grey, she flips through the past few weeks of Simon's calendar and is surprised to learn that he actually had plans, unlike before she left. They used to either work late or pass the evenings in his apartment cooking new recipes (Simon) and sampling (Madge). The initial "M" appears frequently on the calendar, which is strange because Madge was in District 2. Are those the nights he called when she refused to speak to him? Why would he be marking those?

Standing, she starts to paw through the neat stack of folders on the counter—maybe there's something that explains how he spent his time while she was away. But most of the papers appear to be profiles of companies located in districts, which is probably work-related.

She hears the bathroom door click open but doesn't bother hiding her snooping and doesn't notice Simon enter the kitchen until she feels a piece of cloth snap her behind. Yelping in surprise, she twists out of range.

"Pest," he grins, shrugging his arms into the white dress shirt he just snapped her with. "You could at least pretend you care if I catch you digging through my stuff."

Waste of energy. "What is all this?" she asks, pointing to the folders.

Simon is frowning at the tea she left steeping for him. "You were gone for how long and still didn't learn how to make coffee? Guess the war hero isn't interested in your _domestic_ prowess."

"Don't be crude," Madge scolds. "What is this stuff, Simon?"

He takes a sip of his tea and glances at the folders. "Edwin is trying to get me to invest in one of those district companies—introducing me to people, promising it would be more lucrative than my _'tedious'_ economic analysis job."

"But… those companies might be part of a scam!"

"I'm aware, Madge," he says calmly.

"What if…" She hesitates, aware that this is a touchy subject, and tries to voice her concern based on Simon's own admissions. "You said your brother was suspicious about what you do. If he figured out you work in intelligence, could he be trying to lure you away so you don't have access to sensitive information anymore? So you don't look into his business ventures?"

Simon rolls his eyes. "He's always pushed me into whatever he's interested in—it's his way of looking out for me. It's usually to his advantage, with the side benefit of helping me. If he can find more investors, people will think of him as a well-connected resource. And to his set—former mid-level Capitol workers—I'm 'well-placed' in the new, rebel government. More credibility with the districts." He glances at the clock and then eyes Madge's snarled hair and rumpled nightclothes. "You going in like that? We have a meeting with Fiona today."

She makes a face at him and picks up her tea cup and a muffin for her commute across the hallway to her own apartment so she can shower.

"Just give me 20 minutes," she calls as she struggles briefly with the door handle, tea, and muffin. The muffin is lemon flavored—that's new. He must be experimenting with recipes again. Or maybe he's been cooking for someone other than her… Standing in the doorway, she smiles back toward the kitchen where Simon is grinding coffee beans and is about to tease him when she senses movement in the hallway.

Several people she doesn't recognize are lounging on the floor next to her door, rifling through notebooks and large black bags. A man her age with orange spiraling tattoos on his forearms looks back and forth between Madge's apartment door and Madge herself, standing in Simon's doorway.

"Apartment 214, not 215," he mutters as he and the others leap to their feet. Madge instinctively takes a step backward, convinced too late that Gale's worrying had been justified. She mistakenly thought she would be safer sleeping at Simon's apartment.

A flashing light blinds her momentarily. _A bomb?_ No, a large camera. And from somewhere behind it she sees another hallway figure speak into a portable phone: "It's her. We found the spy."

Before the words sink in, she feels Simon yanking her back inside his apartment, sloshing her tea so it leaves a dark stain on the hallway carpet.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm aiming for updates approximately every two weeks at this point; I'm getting closer to the end of this story and writing is taking longer and longer. Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing! Hugs to MSx2 for all the help!


	15. Top Story

**A/N:** Apologies this is late! My schedule chewed me up and spat me out on the wrong side of this chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15: Top Story<strong>

Hands shaking, Madge sets her now-empty tea cup and crumbled muffin remnants on the little table next to the Simon's door. Maybe she heard wrong. It's possible those people in the hallway were referring to someone else they think is a spy… But Simon looks too upset for it to have been a coincidence. He's peering through the door's peephole, occasionally punctuating his frustration with curses and doing his best to ignore the incessant knocking from the outside.

"I see a lot of AV equipment," he reports. "No weapons. Looks like a media stakeout. Those overly aggressive types who pester Gale during off-hours." There's no relief in his tone and he tears his eyes away from the viewer to frown at Madge. She knows as well as he does that if her cover has been jeopardized, his probably is too. The people in the hallway saw him when he pulled her back inside his apartment, and it would be beyond easy to identify him as the occupant of this apartment.

"What should we do?" she whispers.

Simon starts punching a number into his portable phone. "Building security will get rid of them. And then you can go put some real clothes on."

Madge looks down and cringes. She's wearing her nightclothes: a skimpy tank top and short shorts. And she still hasn't brushed her hair or taken a shower; this is how she might be showing up on TV? What a nightmare.

She hears Simon reporting a disturbance on the top floor of the building. When he hangs up, she asks, "What about after they're gone?"

He sighs heavily and looks back outside the little window. "We'll have to watch their putrid programs to figure out what they know and what they're only guessing at. One of them already called in a report so we can't contain this…" He walks away from the door into the rest of the apartment and starts pacing, kicking one of his shoes out of his path. "Damn it! How did this happen, Madge? Did you put your _name_ in that notebook you lost?"

"Of course not! If anyone gave me away, it was probably your brother!" The accusation slips out before she has a chance to soften it and she can see Simon's surprise that she strayed into the Forbidden Topic. But now that it's out, she might as well make her case. "If your brother stole my phone and called you on it, he would have recognized your voice when you answered. And you probably said my name when you answered, didn't you?" They're both lax about using the code names on their work phones. It just seemed pointless, and half the time their calls were only partially work related, talking instead about what to cook for dinner.

"Edwin never leaves the Capitol City if he can help it," Simon snaps. "It's ridiculous to think he was tromping around in some construction area outside District 2 on Friday, breaking into military cars!"

"_He_ probably wasn't, but I'm sure he has other people who do his dirty… who work for him," Madge says, catching herself.

"But exposing you would expose me, too," Simon says, sounding frustrated that Madge doesn't understand that aspect of her accusation. "And even if he knew we worked in Covert Intelligence, he wouldn't do that to me."

Madge thinks that's exactly what he would do. But instead of saying that, she crosses her arms and glares at Simon. "Well, I seriously doubt anyone could have figured out anything about me this quickly without a tip, and if not your brother, then who?"

#

"Call me when they drop the jeep off," Gale tells his mom as he walks into the kitchen, hurriedly doing up all the decorative buttons on his uniform. He's running late—he forgot how living with four other people means everything from teeth brushing to scrounging up breakfast takes longer. He feels bad that he can't take the day off to spend time with them, but he was out most of Friday checking on the quarry's land request and doesn't even know how many assignments he's behind on. Best not to think about that type of thing until forced.

"Gale!" Posy calls from her perch on the island in the kitchen next to the phone. "Vick and I are fixing your phone so it can take messages again!"

Vick proudly presses a button, sending an electronic version of his voice into the room: "_This is Gale's house. Leave a message. But he probably won't call you back._"

Vick and Posy collapse into giggles as their mom hides a smile.

"We'll tweak that," she assures him.

Gale doesn't care; it's what he would say if he bothered to set the recording himself instead of using the factory's default robot message. Better to warn people so they don't get their hopes up.

"I wrote down all the messages before I erased them," Vick says more seriously, handing a list to Gale. A mix of reporters, Mom, Milo, and people who had been looking for him and Madge over the weekend—Perri, Simon, and an array of army officials.

"Thanks," he says, stuffing the papers into his pocket. Glancing into the living room, he sees that Rory is still avoiding him by pretending to read a book. Rory had disappeared for most of the afternoon yesterday, finally returning just before they'd all sat down for a dinner his mom had prepared. Then he'd been sullen for the entire night, and this morning his eyes were red-tinged as though he'd been crying. Gale's approach has been to give Rory space; he figures Rory doesn't want him around anymore than Katniss does.

"See you all later," he says, hand on the front door. "We can drive up to the recreation area for a picnic dinner tonight when I get back."

Posy looks up in alarm. "Where are you going?"

"Work. You won't even miss me."

Frantic, Posy turns toward their mother. "_Don't let him go!_"

All the warning signs of a major Posy meltdown are starting to appear: the bright red spots on her cheeks, the panicked expression, eyes jumping from one family member to the next until someone picks her up.

His mom reaches her first. "Posy, Gale will be home soon."

"That's what you said before," she accuses, voice trilling closer into screeching territory. "But then the TV stole him!" She explodes into tears and starts squirming to get out of her mother's arms, so Gale takes her.

"Pose," he says in what he hopes is a soothing voice. "Remember when we were walking in town yesterday? That building with the big pillars like the Justice Building back home? That's where I'll be. Remember how close it is? Five minutes away, if that. You could even come and have lunch with me, it's so close."

He isn't sure she can even hear him because she's so preoccupied with wailing and hiccuping. She's always had a special gift for making small matters seem like life or death dilemmas, a tendency that hasn't been helped by having to deal with more life or death situations than someone her age should: the bombing of 12, the bombing of 13, Gale's promise that he would be back soon when he left for the final mission to the Capitol… No wonder she doesn't believe him right now.

He pats her back comfortingly, but she's totally lost it, crying with the kind of abandon that he sometimes wishes he could indulge in. This meltdown is _his_ fault, and it's probably one of many that his mom hasn't told him about.

Rory appears in front of him. "You'll be late," he mumbles, pulling Posy into his own arms but not making eye contact with Gale. "Posy," he says firmly, "we'll go see Gale for lunch. Let's play Button Jumper for now. Vick was practicing yesterday after you went to sleep—I think he thinks he can beat you now."

"I don't need to _practice_ that easy game—" Vick starts to contradict before their mom puts her hand on his shoulder, cluing him in on the combined family effort to distract Posy. "I'll… get the buttons," he offers.

Still taking ragged gulps of air, Posy does twist in Rory's arms to watch that Vick is actually retrieving a small pouch from his suitcase. Gale doesn't know what this game is—must be a new one. They were always coming up with games involving scrap bits of whatever they could find, and apparently they've been able to squirrel away buttons in 13 lately. He looks at his mom, who shoos him back toward the door with a wave.

"I'll tell security you'll be there for lunch," he says quickly, hoping he isn't scheduled for any conflicting meetings, and then slips out the door, the memory of Posy's cries making him feel like the kind of scumbag who kicks fluffy baby animals.

He hadn't thought his absence had been hurting his family this much. His mom was probably shielding him from it—she always sounded so concerned about _him_ on the phone, she probably didn't want him to feel any worse about Rory's struggles or Posy's separation anxiety… And who knows what bothers Vick, since he seems determined to keep everything running as smoothly as possible. No doubt they're all still wrestling with the memories of the bombing of 12, too. He does.

When he reaches the Reconstruction Committee's building, he bounds up the back stairs, hoping to sneak to his desk without anyone noticing how late he is. He succeeds, but the unsteady pile of URGENT memos on his desk makes the victory short-lived. And now that he can see all his other assignments, he remembers he's also behind on reading Perri's paper about selecting independent judges, working with Rhoda on how to value past service by district citizens so they'll be able to buy land, coming up with a proposal for revising the district borders, and countless other things. For a microsecond, he misses the exhausting simplicity of mining and not having to deal with anything more at the end of a shift than sore muscles and coal dust in places it had no reason to be.

"Welcome back, Hawthorne," Rhoda grins at him from her own desk. He recognizes that smile: it means _'you'll never catch up but I'm going to have fun watching you try.'_ "I assume you saw the memo about the press briefing being moved up an hour?"

He tries to figure out if she's teasing him until she walks over and fishes the announcement out of one of the paper piles on his desk. _Shit_. He hasn't even started reviewing the status reports. Pawing through the other papers, he tries to find the folder so he can skim the memos summarizing major military actions over the weekend. And then he notices Rhoda still hovering over his desk.

"_What?_" he asks. Is it really necessary for her to gloat about how behind he is?

"I thought you were the one developing a land distribution proposal."

_When? While he sleeps?_ Gale sits back in his chair and rubs his face. "I haven't gotten to it yet."

She shuffles a few other papers and unearths a memo announcing a meeting today. Purpose: Discussion of the Border Revision and Land Distribution Proposal. Sponsor: Committee Member Archibald Douglas.

Gale sits up straighter and angrily flips through the lengthy proposal. Douglas knew this was Gale's project! And Douglas is notoriously lazy—why would he voluntarily do any work that wasn't forced on him? Gale promptly storms over to Douglas' desk, covered today with crisp maps instead of furniture magazines.

"Were you going to tell me about this?" Gale asks, throwing the meeting announcement and proposal packet on top of the maps.

"You didn't seem to be making any progress," Douglas returns, barely lifting his eyes.

"The maps were still being updated! How could we revise the borders when we don't know what we're giving away?"

"I have accurate maps."

Gale picks one of the maps off Douglas's desk and notices that the insignia in the legend belongs to the mapping company Milo works for. He wishes he'd known that Milo's company had made this much progress, but he hasn't talked to Milo much lately—Milo has been gone on those surveying trips and spending his free time with his girlfriend, neither of which Gale wanted to interfere with.

"Why don't we all have copies of these maps?" Gale asks, irritated that Douglas didn't share.

"Feel free to look at them," Douglas says with a shrug. "I know the map company owners so they were directing them to me." He sits up and adjusts his tie, which Gale knows is a warning sign that Douglas is about to go into lecture mode. "Hawthorne, the people in my district are anxious to start harvesting lumber again. Let's get this proposal through the committee and out for a public vote. No more dawdling."

"I haven't been dawdling," Gale snaps. "If you hadn't been hoarding the maps we could have worked together on this." He glares at Douglas' assistants at the adjacent desks, aware that they're the ones who did all the work and feeling betrayed because the committee members' assistants are the only other people his age in this entire room. But Douglas' assistants stay focused on their computer monitors and he feels a surge of irritation that he can't just yell at them the way he wants to. This kind of crap would never happen in the mines, either.

"Ten minutes, Lieutenant," someone calls from across the room, warning him about the imminent press briefing. With a final glare at Douglas so he knows they're not finished discussing this, Gale rushes back to his desk and skims the memos. It's all pretty routine—infrastructure improvements, new sectors being declared clear from unexploded ordnance, the decommissioning of defense structures. He has an instinct now for the most interesting bits and memorizes a few details to highlight at the briefing, hoping that will be good enough. He'll have to fake his way through the questions.

Walking into the media annex, he notices the red-haired reporter he and Madge saw in Ponderosa Village on Saturday, sitting in her usual seat. She'd better behave herself; he is not in the mood for anything else to go wrong today.

When signaled, he summarizes the weekend highlights and describes the major activities the Reconstruction Committee will be addressing during the coming week. These Monday morning briefings are usually uneventful since not much happens over the weekends, so he's feeling good about getting away with being underprepared. Until the briefing is opened up for media questions.

Then everything goes to hell.

Unexpectedly. He starts out by calling on a balding man whose most distinguishing characteristic is his neon purple suspenders. The guy usually asks innocuous questions about transportation projects. But not today.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne, was the Reconstruction Committee aware of, and does it have a position on, the reports of the new government's surveillance program?"

He has no idea what the man is referring to and stares blankly at him. Does 'surveillance program' mean spying network? He quickly tries to remember if the Committee has been briefed on spying… He did miss a few meetings last week… _He_ knows about the spying because of Madge, but he's also bound to confidentiality because of Madge. All the other reporters are leaning forward, intensely interested in his response, and several have raised their hands eagerly, already prepared with follow-up questions. He's starting to suspect he missed a big news story over the weekend, which means his best course of action is ending this briefing as quickly as possible.

"No formal position I'm aware of," he says tersely. "Yet," he adds, inwardly frustrated to be caught without a useful answer and sounding like an idiot.

The red-haired reporter from Saturday stands up without waiting for him to call on her. The fact that she knows better than to act out of turn like this gives him a sick feeling…

"Lieutenant Hawthorne, do you know the alleged spy, Margaret Undersee?"

The question feels like an arrow to his chest, worse than he was expecting. _What happened to Madge?_ _They know she's a spy?_ This reporter saw them together over the weekend—did she have something to do with outing Madge? But all she's actually asking is if he knows Madge, which the reporter knows very well that he does… Is she trying to trap him? Being at such an information disadvantage makes him want to punch someone—that red-haired reporter seems like a prime candidate—and he can't trust himself to open his mouth without giving something away or losing his cool. He grips the podium and strains to think of a way out of this.

"Records indicate she was originally from District 12," the red-haired reporter prompts. "Did you know her?"

Realizing the reporter just unintentionally gave him an out, he announces, "Since there are no more questions about formal committee business, this briefing is over." All the regulars know he doesn't answer personal questions during these briefings. He swivels so he can more plausibly ignore any additional questions and starts pushing his way through the people standing between him and the door. He needs to find out what's going on _now_.

Barreling into the media room, he sees a television blaring, a split screen showing him leaving the press briefing and a pair of talking heads already analyzing his exit. He recognizes the blatherers as regulars on one of the gossip channels.

Rhoda is standing a few feet from the screen, absorbing whatever nonsense spews out. "Spy. Got caught." She turns to Gale. "You knew her in 12? I saw you didn't answer that question."

He ignores her and searches other channels, only to discover that the more respectable outfits aren't reporting on this yet, which means the tabloids are filling the void with whatever they can, dictating how this story unfolds. He can't even formulate a counter-strategy against this pseudo-news-as-entertainment until he knows what they think they know, so he braces himself for the worst and turns back to the tabloid channel. He feels a physical disappointment when the screen fills with a grainy, black and white image of Madge dressed in a skirt suit, walking into what looks like a bank. It's probably the feed from a crummy security camera and her hair is even shorter, marking the footage as a few months old.

A voice narrates as a bank employee shaking Madge's hand and leading her to a desk.

"Information has recently come to light that the new government has been continuing the Capitol's surveillance programs, and some people believe that these programs are even more offensive to citizen privacy than the Capitol's. The young woman featured in this footage has recently been uncovered as a suspected agent of the new government, conducting invasive investigations into _law-abiding businesses_ as recently as this past weekend. Our eye witness reports with his account."

Appearing onscreen is the man from the quarry near Madge's grandparents' house—the man Gale talked to on Friday about the quarry's land request. Gale can't remember his name, but the interviewer introduces him as Mr. Leo Stack.

"Mr. Stack, tell our viewers about your recent interactions with the person you believe to be a spy."

The camera focuses on the quarry man, who sticks out his chest proudly, clearly adoring this attention. "Certainly. Over the weekend, a notebook filled with detailed information about my business—the Hyland Village Quarry, available to fulfill all your granite needs and soon sandstone as well—turned up in our mailbox at the office." He gestures behind him to the crappy little building Gale had visited on Friday near the quarry and Madge's grandparents' mansion. "It had details about our bank accounts, profits, operating history, employees… Someone must have found the notebook, saw our name, and returned it to us. But it wasn't ours. I worried a rival was scoping us out. Spying, trying to do us in—we're the most sought-after quarry in District 2, if you didn't know. Hyland Village Quarry, located in the heart of Hyland Village, can't miss it. To be safe, we checked with our bank and they confirmed that someone other than us had been accessing our account.

"Now, my business partners used to work for the Capitol. But they're decent, smart guys, not like that bastard Snow and his flunkies. They know how things worked under Snow and they filled me in: this kind of spying and worse happened _all the time_. You'd think it would stop now that we have a new government, but my partners said all the old spying equipment is still in place: wires in walls, phone taps… cameras everywhere!"

The man sounds like he's about to explode from anger, a feeling Gale recognizes all too well. He's mad, too, at the prospect of spying, but his anger is also mingled with uneasiness about how Madge is mixed up in this.

The interviewer prompts, "And how did you link the spying on your company to this particular spy?"

"That little blonde was asking me questions here at the office on Friday—acting like she was only interested because her family used to own the quarry. But then she turned up later that same day at a location we've been considering developing outside the district's old borders. Only a few of us knew about that spot! She had to have been spying to figure it out because I sure didn't tell her! When my partner heard she was out there, he made the connection between this same girl and one of his other business partners in District 7, who had been set up by a nosy blonde who locked him out of all his accounts while he had to undergo an audit, which he _passed_, I'll have you know. He's the one who had that security video of her—and I can confirm it's the same girl."

The camera zooms in on Stack's face, his anger palpable through the screen. "I'm just a quarry man trying to get on with my life after the war. Trying to build a useful business and employ other people in my district. What kind of _reformed, supposedly improved_ government breaks into private bank accounts, stops us from using our own damn money, and harasses its citizens? And that's not the worst of it!"

The camera shifts to a man in a shimmering silver suit who speaks with a Capitol accent. "Oh yes, I used to work in the Capitol's surveillance department under Snow. We could intercept everything: phones, communicuffs, other transmissions. Anything we wanted to know, we could find out. I doubt any of the equipment has been removed—there's just too much of it."

Before anyone can explain why this unidentified, random man would or wouldn't know whether the surveillance equipment has been removed, a bright turquoise blue head—skin, hair, and eyes all in matching hues—suddenly dominates the screen. Gale cringes; he thinks of her as the Turquoise Terror and remembers banning her from the formal Reconstruction Committee press briefings months ago for bad behavior.

The Turquoise Terror breathlessly reports, "We have identified the spy as _Margaret Undersee_, the daughter of the former _mayor_ of District 12." An image of a younger version of Madge pops onto the screen—Gale recognizes it as one of the District 12 school portraits and notices that unlike him, Madge actually smiled for those stupid pictures. How did anyone, let alone these idiots, track down one of Madge's old photos? "Miss Undersee was enrolled in President Snow's Young Administrator's Training Program—which _everyone_ knows was an apprenticeship program for Snow's supporters—although records list her as having been killed after the destruction of District 12. But it appears that she _survived_ and, in _theory_ at least, is working for the new government. Passing along the best tricks from the Snow Administration, perhaps? _Where_ do her loyalties truly lie?"

"In fact," the Turquoise Terror continues, as though letting the viewers in on a little secret, "She _may_ have a vendetta against a well-regarded family from the Capitol." A new series of images scrolls across the screen: Simon's brother Edwin testifying at the loyalty hearings. Edwin and Simon sitting together in the audience, obviously related based on their similar features. Madge hugging Simon gleefully at a train station—yesterday, judging by her clothes.

"The spy appears to be romantically linked with one Simon Barker—observed together in an intimate moment this morning at his apartment." A photo appears of Madge with bed head, wearing practically nothing and holding a mug and a muffin in her hands, looking surprised. It's followed by a short video clip of Simon in an unbuttoned shirt, grabbing Madge—_very familiarly_, Gale thinks—around the waist and pulling her inside a door.

"But, interestingly..." The Turquoise Terror pauses dramatically before speaking again. "Mr. Barker's _brother_ is the very Capitol investor behind the quarry Miss Undersee was discovered to have been spying on, which also _happens_ to be the quarry Miss Undersee's family ran historically. Coincidence? Doubtful."

Gale vaguely registers the program's host introducing various 'analysts' (professional idiots) to provide 'insights' (drivel and speculation) and wishes he could unplug something to stop these fools from broadcasting. An orange-skinned woman Gale also banned long ago—is this where they go after he kicks them out?—begins speaking in an absurdly high-pitched voice on the TV screen.

"Oh, unquestionably the spy is plying the younger brother to get information about the older brother. It's obvious, given the history of disputes between the Undersees and the Barkers."

As the orange-skinned squeaker starts describing the past conflict between Madge's dad and Simon's mother about the illegal trading scheme she'd orchestrated decades ago, Gale tunes the words out, overwhelmed by how sick he feels. Madge never explained to him exactly what she does, and there were enough kernels of fact in the interview with the quarry guy for Gale to be concerned that she may have had a role in going too far in her efforts… He closes his eyes, but keeps seeing the images of Madge mauling Simon at the train station and the two of them only partially clothed together this morning after having been ambushed.

Elevated voices on the TV draw his attention back to the screen, where the orange-skinned squeaker is interviewing people for their reactions.

"And how would you feel if you thought the government was listening in on your dinner conversation with your family?"

A woman in a frayed, faded dress—clearly a resident of one of the districts—grabs the microphone and yells into it: "It isn't right! I won't have it! They need to stay out of my house!"

As a series of 'reaction on the street' soundbites flow past, all in a similar vein of outrage based on hypothetical questions intended to provoke ever more inflamed responses, Gale sees Perri enter the room out of the corner of his eye. She joins him in front of the television screen, wearing what he recognizes as her angry as hell expression, which most people mistakenly interpret as her being vaguely displeased. He sees worry in her face, too, which doesn't make him feel better.

"I just heard," she tells him. "I tried calling all the numbers I have for her and for Simon, but neither of them answered."

Rhoda overhears them talking. "So you do know the spy, Gale?"

Perri glares at Rhoda and jumps in before Gale has a chance to speak. "What is a 'spy' and since when do rational people believe the unsubstantiated, one-sided allegations of any fool who knows how to turn on a microphone?"

Rhoda looks surprised at the outburst and takes a step backward. "Well, a spy is someone who gets into other people's affairs without their knowledge. Like this girl seems to be doing."

"And what would you call the legitimate investigations of law enforcement officials?" Perri demands. "Did you hear any admission by an authority figure that what these people allege is actually occurring?"

Rhoda doesn't seem to know how to answer and glances at Gale, but he's also surprised at Perri's reaction. He knows Perri isn't crazy about Madge's job, and she's never hid her contempt for anything Snow did. He assumed she would immediately condemn even the hint of continued surveillance.

"All I did was ask if Gale knows her," Rhoda says cautiously, from a safe distance. "They look to be about the same age and she's apparently from District 12, too. Do you know her too, Perri?"

"I know her," Gale snaps, partly to get Rhoda to back off and partly to spare Perri from disclosing her own relationship with Madge just yet. The red-haired reporter already saw him with Madge and any number of people will be able to confirm seeing them together recently. It's only a matter of time before the alley-dwellers start hounding him, and now that he thinks about it, it's strange that the quarry guy didn't mention Gale visiting that day, too… Unless there's a reason for it.

With a sinking feeling, he wonders how long he has until they discover the connection between Madge and Katniss. After Katniss and Peeta won their first Hunger Games, there were endless promotional shots of them with the Undersees, and quite a few profiles featuring the friendship between the mayor's daughter and the only female victor from District 12. How soon before the vultures start pestering Katniss for interviews… Should he warn her?

And what if his shithead neighbor is already reporting seeing him and Madge together? The guy is probably salivating at the prospect of having these gossip mongers cooing at him for details. It's practically public knowledge where Gale lives—the worst ones could be staking out his apartment. With a groan, he remembers that his family is there. He needs to warn them; if Posy already thought the TV 'stole' him, chances are high she wouldn't react well to having a bunch of cameras and microphones shoved in her face either.

Looking back at the TV, Gale sees that they're back to showing the grainy bank security video again so he turns the volume down. Turning to gaze at Perri, he sees that she's wearing an expression that matches his: ready for a battle. He's done being ambushed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2:** Seriously, I feel bad that I said I was going to be updating every two weeks and then missed my first deadline, but I just went through a really, really busy stretch of life and this story had to move into the backseat. Thanks for being patient, and for those of you still reading along and reviewing. Thank you for all the support, I appreciate it. :) And huge gratitude to my chicas whose suggestions helped me make some much-needed improvements.


	16. Catching Up

**Chapter 16: Catching Up**

Madge flinches every time she hears her name on the broadcast. _Margaret Undersee._ No good has ever come of being referred to by her full name. It's what her father used to call her when scolding her for being too nosy. Is that what this is, but more serious? What would her father think if he could see her on these broadcasts the way she has been all morning, tarnishing the family name?

She glances at Simon, sitting next to her at the small table in front of a panel of TV monitors in their office. He's leaning forward and concentrating on the screen, absorbing all the warped information with a clenched jaw. When he notices her watching him, she looks down at the table quickly, embarrassed. It's her fault he's in this mess, and he seems to be just as flustered as she is about the gossip reports that they're a couple. And just as powerless to do anything about it other than glare down and yell at any of their coworkers foolish enough to insinuate there's the slightest validity to the gossip. A disturbing number of them exchanged knowing expressions when she and Simon turned up at work together this morning after security cleared the tabloids from the hallway between their apartments. If these people she sees everyday believe the gossip, does Gale? What does his family think? And her aunt and uncle?

The beeping on Simon's communicuff forces her to look in his direction again.

"Fiona's on her way," he says before slumping back in his chair, eyes still trained on the bank of monitors.

"Good. It's about time." They aren't allowed talk to the press; all statements have to go through their supervisor Fiona. It's been beyond frustrating to not be able to respond to all the untruths. Yet. Madge skims the list she started of all the corrections and clarifications they need to put into their statement; she can't wait to strike back.

Seconds later, Simon sits up straight again and Madge sees that his brother Edwin is giving another interview. He's been making the rounds all morning.

"Look," Edwin says into a microphone, "my quarry is a fine, upstanding business. I don't appreciate these people spying on us, but if it will get them off my back I'll gladly turn over all our records. I would have been happy to do so if they'd inquired." Madge thinks he sounds like he's sincerely regretful that nobody thought to simply ask him: _"Hey, breaking any laws? Mind telling us which ones so we can lock you up?"_

"Frankly," he continues in the same concerned tone, "I'm more alarmed that we as a country haven't learned from our mistakes. Limitless surveillance was wrong under Snow, and it's wrong now. I have to say, I'm concerned that President Paylor hasn't halted all surveillance until the new republic can be formed. I had high hopes for her, but this strikes me as a serious error in judgment."

He shakes his head sadly, as though to convey that he'd given her a chance to earn his respect, but she just wasn't up to the job. Madge scowls, aware that he's tapping into both the former Capitol loyalist sentiment that district residents have no clue how to govern and the district resident paranoia that the new government is no better than Snow. All beneath his veneer of concern for the country, which she's _certain_ is disingenuous.

"How convenient that he suddenly doesn't want any surveillance," Madge mutters. "That couldn't _possibly_ be because he has something to hide, could it?"

Simon looks at her and grimaces, confirming he shares her suspicions now. "He's always one step ahead… I wouldn't be surprised if he set up that quarry as a legitimate business, knowing you wouldn't be able to resist looking into it because of the link to your family. Perfect way to set you up, create a distraction, and get rid of the monitoring at the same time."

It doesn't feel like a victory to hear that Simon's assessment now aligns with hers when he's so obviously pained by the unfolding events. His brother even said in an earlier interview that he knew his "little brother" and "the spy" were "close" and that he felt bad that it looked like his brother's affections had been toyed with. Again, employing that same insufferable attitude that it was all just such a shame. Madge had wondered momentarily if his brother truly thought she was taking advantage of Simon somehow, but Simon cynically explained that it was a control thing—his brother probably still wanted Simon to join one of his business ventures and that getting Simon fired from his current job would be one way to do that.

She realizes that the interviewer asked Edwin something else and that he's speaking again, still wearing that disappointed expression.

"Yes, I'm afraid those rumors are true. President Paylor's government has been using evidence collected via surveillance in secret trials. I have several former colleagues who have been imprisoned as a result."

"_What?_" Madge hisses at Simon, only to see that he's just as bewildered as she is. She knows evidence they collected was used in the loyalty hearings and the public trials of former Capitol officials after the war ended, but she's never heard anything about secret trials. "That's not true, is it?"

He stares back at her, and she sees the hint of alarm in his eyes. As harmful as Edwin's statements have been, she hasn't actually heard him say anything blatantly false—he's just making implications she disagrees with. But the comment about secret trials was boldly stated, which makes her wonder what he has to back it up.

"Would anyone tell us?" Simon asks quietly. "If they're secret?"

"But why would your brother know about them and not us?"

"He knows _everyone,_ Madge. The types of people who would be subject to secret trials, if there are any… And he knows loads of people in the government now, the ones who were low enough on the bureaucratic food chain to not be kicked out after the war because Paylor needed them to actually run things." Simon nods toward the TV screen. "I can guarantee you if he's saying this stuff on TV, he's been meeting with influential people behind the scenes, too."

The whooshing sound of the external security doors fills the air, prompting Simon to swear under his breath seconds before Fiona breezes into the room. She's wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit, crisply pressed without a wrinkle in sight, high heels clacking mechanically. She gestures for Madge and Simon to follow her into the large conference room, the one Madge hates because its oversized chairs and absurdly long table make it feel so intimidating. And now it will probably be the room where she gets fired.

Madge starts to pull out the chair next to Simon and across the table from Fiona, but he locks his foot around the chair's leg and subtly shakes his head at her. _Oh, right._ She tries to smoothly act like she was aiming to sit two chairs down from him the whole time and hopes Fiona didn't notice. Luckily, Fiona is busy skimming an assortment of papers she brought with her. After a few seconds she looks up.

"Margaret. Simon. It seems we have a situation." She's as unruffled as ever, reminding Madge how she survived for so long as a double-agent supporting the rebels from inside the Snow government: it's impossible to tell what she's thinking. "The President is demanding an inquiry into these events. You are both being put on leave until we can determine whether you acted improperly or not. Margaret, you were already on leave so fortunately this will not disrupt operations. Agent Peck is waiting in Conference Room Omega to take your statement and then he will escort you out of the building. Simon, I'll need you to direct me to all your records and your agents' field reports. Amos is waiting to be briefed so he can manage your duties in your absence while the inquiry is pending."

She looks back and forth between Madge and Simon, apparently waiting for them to stand up and obediently leave. But what she's saying doesn't make any sense to Madge, and a glance at Simon confirms that he's just as stunned as she is. They're being suspended? Both of them?

"Simon hasn't done anything," Madge says slowly, tackling the most obvious problem first. "I'm the one who lost the notebook that started this whole mess."

Fiona seems vaguely annoyed that they haven't departed already, but she merely purses her lips together for a moment before speaking. "As your supervisor, Simon has responsibility for your actions. Though his own actions are troubling in their own right, given how long he took to recuse himself from the file involving his brother." She turns her steely gaze on Simon. "Not to mention the appearance of impropriety regarding your relationship with one of your agents."

"But we're _not_—" Simon sputters.

"When it comes to conflicts of interest, appearances matter," Fiona says sharply. "We talked about this when you were promoted, Simon."

"This inquiry is an overreaction," Simon says forcefully. "We're on the bad end of a successful distraction campaign. If we tell our side of the story and explain how the surveillance is helping us catch lawbreakers and prevent crimes—"

"Obviously I agree that what we do is valuable," Fiona interrupts. "But you underestimate the force of the public outrage. And, more relevantly: you have no knowledge of the degree of internal dissatisfaction our program is facing from the President and her advisors."

"So defend the program," Simon counters. "We can help with that. Like with that mill owner in District 7. The man from the quarry was making it sound like we did something horrible, but all we did was audit the mill. And it passed so that was the end of it! That's how the process _should_ work."

"And," Madge adds, "it really seems like someone from Edwin's business vandalized the army jeep and stole my stuff. To set me up and orchestrate getting rid of all the surveillance—"

"We have no evidence to support that theory, Margaret. The quarry is clean. The vehicle was broken into while parked in a public area, resulting in the loss of sensitive items that should not have been there to begin with. The notebook was returned to the only name identified within its pages. Whatever the sequence of events, Mr. Barker and his local partner in District 2 have made a convincing case publicly about harassment by surveillance, triggering protests in multiple districts. We cannot afford this type of instability."

"What about the secret trials?" Madge asks. "Wouldn't it be easy to announce: 'There are no secret trials, don't be ridiculous.'"

Fiona doesn't respond right away, looking back and forth between Madge and Simon. Her hesitation makes the unease in Madge's chest grow… maybe there _are_ secret trials. Maybe evidence she's helped collect has been used in them…

"Margaret," Fiona finally says, "It's not as simple as appearing on television and saying 'just trust us' that all information collected is being used responsibly. Suspicions are high and our credibility is low, thanks in large part to your poor judgment. A thorough inquiry is the best way to convince the President and her advisors of the value of our program."

Madge sits back in her chair, realizing in that moment the trap she's been caught in and unwilling to say anything else that might hurt her or Simon. It sounds like Fiona is preparing to sacrifice them for the sake of the surveillance program, getting ready to paint them as rogues tangled up in personal dramas just like they're being portrayed on the tabloids. How they could be forced to take the fall for secret trials they don't even know about, Madge can't even guess, although maybe someone else is getting in trouble for that part of it…

Fiona slides her papers back into their folder and stands up. "Your access cards, please."

She's holding out her hand across the table in a pose that for one surreal moment seems helpful, like she's offering her assistance to her troubled employees. But then the cold efficiency of the gesture sinks in. Madge looks over at Simon and sees his expression reflecting the same realization she has: this is really happening.

#

Gale picks up the phone and starts dialing again, but like the previous attempts, hangs up before the call connects. He couldn't get through to Greasy Sae or Haymitch, which leaves Katniss and Peeta. It feels wrong to call Peeta instead of Katniss, but he can't risk triggering Katniss to relapse into whatever mental fog engulfed her after the war… Should he ask his mom to call them?

_Did he really just think that?_ Since when does he run to his mom with his problems? He can dial a damn phone number. He's going to. Right now. Right…

It's ringing. He tries to clear his mind of everything other than what he'll say: _Hi Peeta, this is Gal_e. _I wanted to warn you that the gossip rags may start pestering you and Katniss. Madge Undersee is in their crosshairs and it's only a matter of time before they uncover her connection to Katniss._

"Hello?"

It's Katniss. He freezes for a second, positive he dialed Peeta's phone number, not hers. Squinting at the display, he sees that he did. So Katniss is answering Peeta's phone? Are they _living_ together now? What if Peeta is still a jacked up mess of Capitol-inspired nightmares? Gale thought he was improving, but how can they truly know if he's stable enough—

"Hello?" Katniss repeats impatiently. "Haymitch, this isn't funny anymore—"

"Katniss?"

He hears her inhale sharply in surprise. And then there's silence on the line, but it's not a broken connection—just Katniss being still. He knows the sound of Katniss being still better than nearly any other type of quiet, although hopefully right now it doesn't mean she's going to go into a catatonic state…

"Katniss, it's Gale," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend they're in the forest together back home and he's telling her about some hazard he noticed—a snake sunning itself or a patch of nasty brambles. He's just Same Old Gale warning her about something he momentarily has superior knowledge of. Not Unfamiliar New Gale calling from thousands of miles away to re-open old wounds.

"I'm sorry to call," he starts, but that's something New Gale would say because he knows he isn't welcome in her life, even by telephone. He tries to get back into Old Gale mode. "I need to warn you: the tabloids may start bothering you again. They're targeting—"

"Why are you calling Peeta?" Katniss asks sharply.

It sounds like an accusation, and Gale isn't sure if she means why is he calling Peeta instead of Katniss, why is he calling Peeta at all, does he have a history of calling Peeta… With a pang he realizes he can't tell what she's thinking.

"I didn't want to upset you," he finally says.

"I'm _fine_, you don't all need to treat me like this, I'm not…"

He can hear her voice breaking and her breathing becoming uneven; she can't even finish her sentence. He should have had his mom call. What was he thinking?

Some shuffling sounds fill the earpiece and then he hears Peeta's voice. "Who is this?" Peeta demands, sounding much gruffer than Gale remembers.

"Gale." He waits for the tirade to start, and when it doesn't he wonders if Peeta realizes Gale was calling Peeta's number to spare Katniss this trauma. He quickly spits out his canned speech, the one he intended for Peeta's ears. Thankfully, Peeta listens quietly.

"What kind of trouble is Madge in?" Peeta asks.

"Just turn on your TV." Gale doesn't want to dignify any of it with an explanation. "Tabloid channels."

"We don't have TVs anymore. We smashed them."

The same idea has tempted Gale many times… Today especially. He's jealous Katniss and Peeta could carry out the impulse.

"She's accused of being a spy," he says carefully. "The tabloids are digging into her history. It won't be long before they find references to her in those profiles of you and Katniss after the Hunger Games."

Peeta doesn't respond for a few seconds, and then asks, "_Is_ she a spy?" When Gale doesn't answer, Peeta adds, "She knew where all the microphones and recording devices were hidden in our houses… But she also helped us get rid of everything. Is she a _good_ spy? Is there such a thing?"

Gale doesn't know what he is and isn't allowed to say about Madge's job and doesn't even know what she's actually done other than what he witnessed himself on their hike… Better not to say anything.

"Just be careful with your phones and around town," he advises.

"Yeah, OK. Is Madge going to be all right? Is there anything we can do to help her?"

"I don't know." Having a plan to get Madge out of this would require understanding what she'd been doing in the first place.

He wants to ask Peeta how Katniss is doing, but he doesn't want to treat her like more of an invalid than he already has. And he could hear for himself that she's not great, although Gale could have been the trigger for that unsteadiness. It's probably a good thing they don't have TVs.

He's about to say good-bye when he hears more shuffling and then Katniss back on the phone.

"You'll help her, won't you, Gale? Remember when she brought you that morphling?"

He's momentarily stunned that Katniss feels the need to make a special request, as if there might be some question that he wouldn't help Madge. Until he realizes Katniss has no idea he and Madge were friends in 12. He may have even been sort of rude to Madge before he got to know her…

"I'll do whatever I can for her," he says.

After hanging up, Gale sits at his desk and stares at the blinking flashing light on his phone that indicates he has a message. He wants nothing more than to unplug the phone, hurl it out the window, and march up the nearest mountain, away from all of this. Well, and to grab Madge to take her with him. And his family. And the Whistlers and _fine_, Zipper could come, too. But Madge needs him here, and when it occurs to him that that blinking light could be her, he presses the code to listen to the message.

Not her. But close: it's Perri calling from the Capitol to let him know that Madge has been suspended pending some kind of investigation into her actions so she's bringing Madge back to District 2. Gale can meet them at the Whistlers' house later today.

Gale doesn't like the sound of an investigation; it sounds like the kind of thing that presumes Madge did something wrong. And even if _he_ thinks she might have taken her spying too far, he knows she was well-intentioned and whoever is "investigating" her might not understand that. Assholes.

As he's stewing, he hears an uneven sound texture in the distance. Voices? Choppy yet rhythmic, punctuated by loud bursts. He follows the noise into the hallway, where a crowd of Reconstruction Committee members and their staff are gathered at the hallway's other end near the security gates, peering through the windows at what appears to be a large crowd of people. Walking forward, Gale realizes that the voices belong to the crowd, engaged in a large-scale demonstration centered on the front entrance of the building—a sea of bodies and hand-held signs on sticks fill the windows. The signs are too far away to read and whatever the people are shouting is too garbled to make out. But he can feel the purity of the disorganized anger even from inside the building.

One of Committee Member Douglas' young assistants notices Gale's confusion and moves to stand next to him. "People are mad about the spying," he explains in a friendly tone. Gale frowns at him, wondering why the guy is acting like they're friends all of a sudden. They're the same age, but they're definitely not friends and Gale is still sore this jerk assistant helped Douglas take over Gale's land distribution project. "They want the committee to do something about it," he adds.

"That's stupid," Gale says, turning to look back out the windows. "We only make recommendations." President Paylor and all the actual government offices are still in the Capitol for this interim period until a new government can be formed.

The guy shrugs. "We're closer."

True. If the people of District 2 wanted to raise a racket, this would be the place to do it. Watching the crowd, Gale feels acutely that he's on the wrong side of the glass, like he should be out there doing the yelling. The soldiers keeping order on the front stairs—soldiers Gale knows and has worked with and respects—look similarly uneasy, most not even holding their weapons at the ready. But the crowd's anger hasn't crested into violence; they're just angry. Venting, the way he used to in the forest when he could be sure Katniss and the birds were his only audience.

"I'm surprised you're here," the assistant says. "Sounds like you're pretty cozy with the spy."

Gale tries to suppress his flinch. And his instinct to shove this punk into the wall. At the same time, there's a certain relief to knowing something he's been dreading is actually happening because he doesn't have to wait any longer: apparently his connection to Madge is out now. Which also means that they could have figured out where he lives... He spins on his heels; he needs to check on his family.

Back at his desk, he punches in the phone number to his apartment. Vick answers after only one ring.

"It's me, what's going on there?"

"I'm taking messages for you, Gale," Vick says proudly. "Your phone rings a lot. I thought your machine would fill up again, so I've been writing everything down."

"Did Madge call?"

"No, but other people have. Some of them are rude. I marked those messages with a big 'R' so you can pretend to lose them later if you want. You can blame me, it's all right. They'll just think I'm a little kid."

When did Vick learn how to be conniving? Gale is going to have to keep an eye on him, although it's a relief to hear that Vick doesn't sound especially freaked out about anything. "Vick, let me talk to Mom."

His mom gets on the phone a few seconds later. "Gale, your neighbor is _awful_. He made some very offensive comments about you and Madge to those tabloid people, implying you've been giving her confidential government information in exchange for—. Well, he's a terrible human being."

Gale couldn't agree more. "He's full of shit."

"_Language_," she says automatically, but Gale doesn't care; it's not like Posy overheard through the phone.

"Practically everything I do for work is public," he says dismissively. The seduction-for-secrets angle is absurd. Even the quarry's land request application that Madge snuck a look at was a public document, not confidential in any way. The gossip shows will probably swoon for whatever juicy soundbites his sleazy neighbor provided and Gale sure as hell isn't going to let the guy get away with any of it, but for now he has more pressing concerns. "Are any of those jerks hanging around outside the apartment?"

"There's a van in the parking lot. I don't know that we should meet you for lunch, dear. Posy gets so anxious around the cameras."

"Don't come here," he agrees, fairly certain that she's once again understating Posy's reactions. And that crowd out front could turn hostile fairly quickly… He knows what he needs to do. "We can go to Madge's aunt and uncle's house to get away from all this." Perri had suggested it before she left for the Capitol, since Madge's connection to them would take longer to discover. He briefly tells his mom his plan and then asks to talk to Rory about the rest of it.

"You didn't look so hot on TV this morning," Rory says when he takes the phone, smugness lurking in his tone. Gale bites back a retort, looking forward to having a normal relationship with Rory again so he can actually fight back instead of taking these insults. But they're not there yet and he knows he deserves much worse, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"Rory, I need you to get Mom and the kids out of there."

"Okay," Rory says quickly, sounding almost like the eager-to-please shadow Gale remembers from simpler times. Excluding him from being categorized as one of "the kids" is the magic ingredient for Rory cooperation. Gale quickly runs through his strategy for Rory to get everyone to the outdoor gear store where they bought the sleeping bags—what was it, only _yesterday?_—since the owner will let them use the back door. Then Gale, after arranging for the jeep to be dropped off at work instead of home, can sneak out a back door and get them out of this zone of vulnerability.

"Don't leave until those jerks in the parking lot are out of the way," Gale warns. "They'll probably be coming up here soon for the televised committee meeting this afternoon. Got it?"

"Easy," Rory says confidently. He pauses for a second and then asks, "What's going on with Madge? Is she in trouble?"

It's the first time since arriving in District 2 that Rory's called Madge by her name, which feels like progress of a sort. But it's a small comfort compared to the fact that from every angle Madge does appear to be caught in one hell of a mess.

"Looks that way, doesn't it?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Gale and Madge get to see each other in the next chapter. It was supposed to be this chapter, but I had to move it, sorry! I know this chapter is kind of in between one... sometimes those have to happen in a story. Thanks for reading and for being patient about the wait since the last chapter—I've been writing ahead to make sure I don't leave things out that I need for the ending, which is getting closer.


	17. Team Meeting

**Chapter 17: Team Meeting **

The Whistlers' little car isn't in their driveway when Gale pulls up to their house, but neither are any other vehicles, meaning their home is a camera-free zone at the moment. That's one relief, although Gale would feel a lot more at ease if Madge were here.

"How did you do that, Gale?" Rory asks, reminding Gale that he forgot to explain how to park the jeep just now. Driving lessons for his mom and Rory were a convenient way to keep the conversation during the ride from straying into all the rumors and innuendo that had flooded the broadcasts this morning. Gale's decree that the car radio stay off during the drive and Posy's endless questions about the passing scenery also helped.

Gale hurriedly describes the basics of parking as he unlocks the doors and herds his family toward the Whistlers' front door.

"Are you sure it's all right for us to be here?" his mother asks (again), eyeing the house skeptically. "It sounds like they have a guard dog."

"That's just Zipper," Gale says as he retrieves the spare key from its hiding place under the large flower pot near the front door. "He's not dangerous, although he might annoy you to death."

He reconsiders his warning when he opens the door and Zipper bolts out. The dog bypasses Gale, ignoring the shouted commands in favor of jumping up on Rory only to immediately ricochet off Rory's legs and land on the crumpled form of Vick, who had already dropped to the ground to cover his head. Meanwhile, Posy is screaming and burying her face in their mother's long skirt.

"It's attacking us!" Vick shouts.

Zipper barks and starts to do a lap around all of them on the front lawn, which lets Gale calculate exactly when to hurl himself at the little beast, tackling him on the front lawn.

"That thing is a pet?" Hazelle asks, arm wrapped protectively around a wide-eyed Posy.

"Do you need me to knock it out?" Rory appears at Gale's side, holding one of his shoes above his head threateningly.

"I've got him," Gale mutters. Zipper stops squirming other than making a few determined attempts to lick Gale, which Gale thwarts with a stern "NO" until Zipper calms down and looks away submissively. What the hell kind of anything goes operation are Madge's aunt and uncle running here? Zipper completely relapsed into his old ways in a matter of days!

Pushing himself to his feet while restraining Zipper, Gale nods toward the house. "They'll be home soon, it's fine to wait inside." His mother leads the way, Posy following closely and turning around every few seconds to be sure Zipper hasn't gotten loose again.

Gale holds a remedial training session with Zipper in the entryway while his family circulates through the living room, examining family pictures and the other furnishings. He gets Zipper to sit after a few efforts, a distressing backslide in such a short period of time. Maybe he should steal Madge _and_ Zipper from the Whistlers.

"Look," Vick calls from the wall of photos. "The mayor! He has all his hair in this picture."

Their mom tears herself away from her inspection of the Whistlers' fireplace and joins Vick. "That's what he looked like when he first arrived in 12. I was pregnant with Gale during the swearing-in ceremony." She smiles at Gale as though he remembers the event too, and then lifts Posy up to see the photo. "That's Madge's father."

"Does he live here too?"

"No, he died in District 12."

"Like my daddy," Posy says solemnly.

The reminder that Posy doesn't even know their father other than as a ghost hurts, more than he expected even after all this time. Gale sees Rory turn sharply from the adjacent wall where he'd been studying a painting so he can watch their mom and Posy. Vick is eyeing them too, always quietly eager for the slightest tidbit about their father.

"Yes, but after Daddy. Madge lost her mommy and her daddy on the night with all the fire when we left home and lived in the forest. She lives here with her aunt and uncle now."

Rory returns to staring at the painting, jaw clenched. Then he abruptly walks over to the TV to turn it on.

"We aren't watching that—" Gale starts to say, but stops protesting when he recognizes footage of District 12 on the screen. The Victor's Village, to be specific, which sends a shiver of worry down his spine: did they get to Katniss?

Haymitch appears, shuffling along the road that leads from the Victor's Village to town. Or where town used to be… Haymitch pushes a microphone out of his face and then lunges threateningly toward the camera, making the image wobble for a few seconds before it stabilizes and follows along side him as he walks.

"Of course they're still in the district, not that it's any of your business. They have food poisoning and wouldn't talk to you schmucks even if they weren't puking their guts out. Now get the hell out of my way."

Gale smirks to himself, relieved Katniss and Peeta took his warning seriously and feeling grateful once again for Haymitch. The guy comes in handy.

"They're bothering Katniss now?" Rory asks incredulously. "She doesn't have anything to do with this!"

"They'll always bother her," Gale snaps, annoyed at the tabloids more than Rory, but it doesn't help that Rory is probably blaming Madge for this latest intrusion into Katniss' life. He reaches to shut the thing off again, but pauses when the coverage shifts to the Reconstruction Committee's building and the promise of an "exclusive report" from one of the tabloid speculators commenting on Gale Hawthorne's "conspicuous" absence from an important sub-committee meeting, "most likely because he's on his way to the Capitol to confront the two-timing spy."

Gale switches the TV off with a glare at Rory, who glares back. And unlike Zipper, Rory doesn't look away.

Their mom intervenes. "Gale, can we go in the backyard? Maybe you could show us how to control this animal."

Zipper has hopped up onto the Whistlers' couch and is happily pulling the stuffing out of one of his mangled toys, getting slobber and toy innards all over the cushions.

"Let's go," Gale agrees, shooing Zipper off the couch. As everyone files outside it occurs to him that at least skipping out on work threw the vultures off his tracks. For now.

#

After a half hour or so of practicing commands and playing fetch with the Hawthornes, Zipper's ears perk up and he starts barking maniacally, which must mean that Madge and Perri are home. Gale rushes inside the house almost as enthusiastically as Zipper, and sure enough, finds Madge and her aunt and uncle walking through the front door. Madge freezes mid-step when she sees him, her face spotted with the red blotches he recognizes as a sign she's been crying. She reminds him of the novice soldiers in 13, the ones who would return from their first battle vacant and exhausted.

"Hello Gale," Dusty calls as he sets Madge's suitcase in the hallway and stoops to pet a wriggling, happy Zipper. "Glad you could make it. And you all must be Gale's family! Welcome to District 2! We've heard so much about you." Dusty is smiling warmly and greeting them as though they dropped by for a social visit rather than to flee a scandal.

Once names and handshakes have been exchanged and the younger Hawthornes prompted on manners, Dusty smoothly suggests that he and Zipper show everyone around the neighborhood. "We can walk over to the quarry. And maybe stop at the candy store on the way home," he adds with a wink.

"That sounds lovely," Hazelle says, matching Dusty's cheerfulness. "Posy, we have our very own tour guide to answer your questions! And I can't thank you enough for letting us visit. Those tabloids were stalking Gale's apartment and office. You wouldn't believe the things they were saying about—" Stopping herself with a blush, she seems to realize too late that she's making Madge feel even more guilty and smiles gently in her direction. "It was all nonsense, of course."

Madge gives a microscopic nod without making eye contact and then mumbles, "Excuse me," before starting down the hallway toward her bedroom. Gale moves to follow her, but Perri catches his arm.

"You skipped your sub-committee meeting this afternoon," she says grimly. Before Gale can lash out—Perri can't seriously be scolding him for ditching work under these circumstances, especially not when _she_ left even earlier than he did to drive to the Capitol and get Madge—Perri nods in Madge's direction and pats his arm. "We'll talk after."

Without a second glance Gale continues toward Madge's room. He finds that she left the door open, shed her jacket in a pile on the floor and retreated onto her bed, where she's sitting wrapped in a fuzzy brown blanket covering so much of her that only her face pokes out. She doesn't look up as Gale walks into the room, instead tugging the blanket more tightly around her body as though it can hide her. Gale sits gingerly next to her, making sure not to touch her if she doesn't want him to. She doesn't react, eyes fixed on a point on the floor.

In the distance he can hear the front door shut, leaving nothing but faint clinking sounds in the kitchen—Perri must have stayed behind but is giving him and Madge space. The silence between them balloons, each passing second filling with new reasons Gale can imagine for why she isn't speaking yet. Finally he can't take it anymore.

"Madge—"

"There's nothing going on with me and Simon," she blurts, turning to look at him. "I sleep on his couch. The _actual_ couch," she clarifies, "not like when I was supposed to sleep on the couch at your house."

He tries to hide how relieved he is, not wanting to admit to himself much less to Madge that he was worried about Simon's role in her life and that the thought of her snuggling with anyone other than _him_ inspires the types of vicious thoughts he's been trying to curb. But this is also probably the least important of the problems Madge is currently facing, and other than being secretly glad she was concerned about it too, they need to focus on the more serious stuff.

"Good. What about the rest of it?"

Her face starts to crumple and she shrinks further into the blanket. "Gale, they're warping everything so badly…"

"_Believe me_, Madge, I understand how that works. I could tell you a thing or two about being a famous _cousin_."

Madge peers out of the blanket at him and he can see her slow recognition of just how much he understands being portrayed on TV differently than reality. He went from being Katniss' cousin before and during the war to her jilted ex-whatever during her trial, only to be followed by a near-constant stream of gossipy speculation about anything and everything he's done after the war. _He gets it._

"Right. You would know." She buries her face in her hands again and mumbles, "It feels terrible. And I can't speak to the press to correct any of it or I'll get in even more trouble. They already sent me away because they've started an inquiry, whatever that is. And they're including Simon in it, too, which is unfair because he didn't do anything!"

She's starting to get shrill, so he scoots close enough that he can put his arm around her shoulder. Or where he thinks her shoulder is—she's basically a lump under the brown blanket. But the effect he has on her is immediate and he can feel her starting to relax into his side with a series of shaky breaths.

"Tell me what's going on," he says in a low, calm voice. But also firm; he's done with her keeping things from him.

Madge stays nestled in his side for a few more moments before twisting slightly so she can look at him. "You could get drawn into the trouble Simon and I are in if you get involved."

"I'm already involved," Gale points out. Between their sabotaged hiking trip and the tabloid reports, anyone working on that inquiry thing will assume Madge has already told him whatever they think she knows. He wonders briefly why those TV reports made it sound like Madge was seducing _him_ for secrets when she's the one who apparently knows all the good stuff. And how did he end up without either seduction or secrets? By tabloid standards, he's pretty lousy at being involved with a supposed spy.

"Madge, I can't help you if I don't know what you've been doing. Talk."

She studies his face for a few seconds and he can see a hint of a smile tugging at her eyes, but then her brain catches up and she takes a deep breath.

"You know some of it already, like what we did during the war. A lot of Capitol companies and people tried to hide their money or use it to fund Snow's weapons, supplies, and other support for the Peacekeeper troops. Simon and I figured out their tricks and could find the money and freeze it so they couldn't use it anymore.

"After the war, those same companies and people would claim they wanted the rebels to win all along, but we could show by their fund transfers that they were lying: money talks. We provided a lot of the evidence used in those trials of the former Capitol people," she says quietly. "And during the loyalty hearings. I thought they only used our evidence in public trials and hearings but now I'm not so sure… The people in charge of Covert Intelligence may have been using the information in secret trials. Simon hadn't heard of anything like that, but we're not in on everything."

Spying on _money_ doesn't sound that bad to Gale, especially if it was being used to support Snow's side in the war. Gale never had a bank account until moving to District 2, but there doesn't seem to be anything particularly secret about his money. It's not like he has much or uses it for anything other than normal life stuff like housing and food. But from what he's seen on TV and from the protest outside his building earlier, people didn't seem to be so outraged about spying on money; it was the idea of personal intrusions that sparked the most visceral anger. And he remembers how easily Madge started digging around in that construction equipment they found on their hike and how she insisted on checking his apartment for bugs… It seems likely that she's doing more than accessing bank accounts.

"What else do you do, Madge?"

She looks down briefly at where her lap would be if she weren't hidden in her stupid blanket, apparently reluctant to answer. Gale gently pushes the top of the blanket off her head so at least she resembles a person instead of a mole hill, triggering her to meet his eyes again, but she still seems hesitant to speak.

He holds her gaze. "I'm pretty sure whatever you've done doesn't even compare to designing a bomb that killed medics and children."

Madge flinches, possibly out of lingering horror at the reminder of how terrible he is or maybe at his suspicion that she went too far with her spying. But she swallows and starts to talk again.

"I… plant bugs so we can get into bank systems if they don't give us permission. Sometimes they do. But during the war the Capitol still controlled everything so we didn't even ask. And now we don't want to tip anyone off that we're investigating so we don't always ask. And… I go into offices to look for records." The last bit tumbles out quickly, as though she wants to gloss over details.

"Does 'go into' mean break into?"

"I never _break_ anything," she says. "I'm _good_. But entering without permission, yes." She watches his reaction carefully, probably to see how surprised he is. Not very.

"Also," she adds, "sometimes we use the surveillance equipment Snow's people had already set up."

That's exactly what those people were talking about on the TV reports… meaning at least some of that speculating was based on truth. _Gross_.

"Listening in at people's houses?" Gale asks. "Like Snow did to your family? To Katniss?" He can't help the disgust from creeping into his voice. "How can you be OK with that?" he demands.

"These people _hate_ us," Madge says angrily, shifting away so she can face him directly. "You should hear the things they say about people from the districts—they think we're stupid and uncivilized. That we only won the war because people in the Capitol turned against Snow for their own personal gain, not because they cared about the districts or the rebellion. They're convinced we're going to foul everything up in the new government and are just waiting until they can get an advantage, and since they can't do that through holding office they'll do it by controlling the money."

Gale stands up, frustrated that he fully understands Madge's anger and absolutely believes she's heard Capitol people saying those things, but torn because it feels wrong for her to be using that creepy surveillance. He starts pacing, unable to sit still anymore.

"What do you do—just listen to everything and if someone says something you don't like, start looking for a way to bust them?"

Madge jumps to her feet too, still clutching that damn blanket around her shoulders like it's a suit of armor protecting her. "No, that's not what we do. In my group, at least," she amends. "We start by looking at the banking information for suspicious patterns and then follow that… Then we'll supplement with information from the surveillance or records searches. We do audits and arrest people if there's enough evidence."

"So what has Simon's brother actually done that's so bad?" Gale asks. "He's pretty obnoxious on TV about how innocent he is." It rubs Gale the wrong way; the guy is as slimy as moss on a river rock but they must not have anything on him if he's walking around loose giving non-stop interviews.

A furious look lodges itself on Madge's face. "I don't have any evidence yet, but I _know_ he's got something planned."

"Great, so they run this inquiry on you and find out you don't even have any evidence against his company?" He rubs his face wearily. "So it looks like you really are just targeting Simon's brother for personal reasons."

"It only looks like that because he set me up! And now thanks to the president caving in, he can do whatever he wants."

"What did she do?" Gale hasn't heard of anything, but he's also been deliberately avoiding the latest developments.

"Passed an executive order banning all surveillance until some kind of review can be completed." Madge sounds offended. "I think she went too far—it's going to screw up ongoing investigations, but Perri said she probably did it partly to make the point that she's furious with the people working in her own government who have been doing things without briefing her. Still, no surveillance means jerks like Simon's brother can do whatever they want without worrying about us finding out."

"So they can do _what_, Madge? What is this grand conspiracy?"

Madge makes a frustrated sound. "I don't know! I only have theories. But my theories are usually good—I know how they think."

Gale narrows his eyes at her; she probably knows how they think because she spends so much time with Simon and listens in on the creeps so often. He's frustrated that they're going in circles with this discussion: everything she's saying makes sense, but without anything to back up her ideas nobody will believe her. Gale himself can't even tell if she's onto something real or acting on lingering hurt from what the Capitol did to her family and District 12.

She flops back onto her bed and pulls her blanket around her shoulders again. "I know you don't like the surveillance, Gale. But this is such a vulnerable point in time with the new government forming. Everything is uncertain—where the district borders are going to be, what type of government we'll have, what kinds of laws will be in place… These people like Simon's brother know how everything worked in the old system and are more influential in shaping the new system than anyone realizes, and I'm worried they're going to rig it so they come out on top once again and that we won't be able to do anything about it until it's too late. But they know how to avoid being caught, and it's tough to even know what qualifies as 'wrong' since so many things we don't like were legal under Snow. Like the Hunger Games! Even the surveillance was legal up until President Paylor passed that executive order."

She shuts her eyes tightly. "The things I've heard some of these jerks say about the mayors… Calling them Snow's puppets, not acknowledging the way Snow manipulated them by hurting and threatening their families…" She looks pained, no doubt remembering her own family's sad saga of manipulation, and then opens her eyes again to meet Gale's eyes. "So the distinction I make about listening on the surveillance is to prevent anything like that from ever happening again. The idea of these same sick people having so much power—in whatever form they can manage it—makes me worry the war was pointless. It _can't_ have all been for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing," he says vehemently, sitting down next to her again. He didn't lose all those people—and part of himself—for _nothing_. The idea is nauseating, and reminds him again of how Katniss saved them all from that very fate by assassinating Coin. If what Madge is saying is true, maybe it's a recurring threat, disguised differently each time…

Whatever the case, he's relieved to hear that she's still the same Madge he remembers, trying to do the right thing. Maybe she got in over her head, and maybe there aren't clear answers to the things she's confronting. He knows both scenarios all too well, and how hard it is to see when you're in the middle of everything. Which maybe she needs to hear.

"Madge, if ranting and making nasty comments is all they're doing, well, I do that all the time."

"I know, I need more evidence," she says in a frustrated tone. She slouches and scowls without looking at anything for a few moments before turning to watch him. He sees her expression soften and when she speaks again she sounds calmer, with a hint of sadness. "Gale, I'm sorry you and your family have been affected by this. I owed you an explanation, but I think you'd better keep your distance. You're doing good things at work and I don't want your credibility hurt by associating with me if they decide I was out of line. I think they already have, since it gives them a way to salvage the surveillance program but make it look like they responded to the outrage. So it's just a question of how much trouble I'm in."

"No," he says automatically. "That's not how we're dealing with this. I'm not letting them screw you over."

She's still looking at him skeptically, like she isn't sure he knows what he's talking about. He does, and takes hold of her shoulders to really make the point. "No matter what, I'm on your side."

Sitting a little straighter, she searches his face and slowly starts to smile as she realizes he's serious. "I thought you might not like me anymore after hearing all this…"

"You're still you," he says simply. "I always like you, even if I don't like everything you've done." He pauses, processing just now that that's how Madge reacted to learning about his own actions she doesn't like. She thought his bomb design was horrible and got mad at him for not going with her to District 12 and not telling her why he wouldn't go, but she always seemed to understand that he was trying to do what he thought was best at the time, however wrong he might have turned out to be. "You still like me even though I've done much worse things than you," he points out.

"I do like you," she says, reaching out from the blanket to rest her hands on his chest as she moves closer to him. "A lot. And you're still you, too." Her eyes are locked on his and he knows what's seconds away from happening but can't wait that long and leans forward to meet her. She's as soft and insistent as ever as she kisses him back, and he wishes they could be like this all the time. He discreetly tugs that annoying blanket from her shoulders so he can run his hands up her bare arms and feel her skin, which she must like because she shifts to press herself against his chest, her hands suddenly on his neck, in his hair, everywhere. He's just starting to lean to tip them over so they're lying on the bed instead of sitting up when the far-off sound of a tea kettle whistles, reminding him that they're not alone in the house and shouldn't get too carried away.

He stops kissing her and can sense Madge listening to the kettle too because she moves back a few inches. And then stares at him. He's used to being the one to force other people to look away, but this time he breaks eye contact because if he keeps looking at her they'll end up right where they were seconds ago—her restraint is practically as bad as his, and they were on the fast track to severe embarrassment if her aunt walked in on them.

"I think Perri is making tea," he says as he lifts Madge off his lap and returns her to the spot next to him on the bed.

She's like a little rubber band and springs back to him, circling her arms around his neck and murmuring in his ear. "Is it OK if I hate tea right now?"

He smiles. "Yeah." Without his awareness, his hands worked their way around her waist again.

Still hugging him, Madge kisses his cheek. "We need some _real_ alone time. Before I have to go back to the Capitol. Who knows what will happen to me with this inquiry and when I'll see you again—"

"What?" He nudges her away so he can look at her more clearly. "Won't they just fire you?" The idea of Madge being fired in disgrace makes him want to personally punch everyone involved in that probably crooked inquiry, but considering he doesn't like her job, Madge resigning or being fired and vilified publicly—what he assumed as the worst case scenarios of this situation—hadn't seemed like the end of the world.

"They might." She retreats into her own space and folds her hands on her lap like the proper little town girl she was raised to be. Red flag that she's being evasive, since he's known for a long time she's no proper town girl. Typical town girls didn't run around to all the darkest corners of District 12 trying to undermine the Capitol, or turn into spies when you thought they were dead. And the ones he knew definitely didn't kiss the way she does.

"Madge." He sits cross-legged on the bed to face her. Out of the danger zone so they can talk without temptation. "What could happen to you if they decide you did something wrong? Really."

She hesitates, and then quickly says, "I could be reprimanded or fired, if someone wants to make an example of me to score political points." And then she pauses again, speaking more slowly. "They could also put me through a trial for breaking confidentiality by talking to you and Perri about all this, which could mean going to jail…" She scrunches her eyes closed, as though not wanting to consider the possibility; no wonder she'd rather kiss him. He's familiar with the kissing-to-avoid-difficult issues coping technique. "Maybe by a secret trial, if those actually exist. But Perri says she won't let that happen."

"I won't either," Gale vows. He reaches for her hand and gives it a firm squeeze. Safe from the danger zone, but he can't not touch her.

Madge looks at their hands and then smiles gratefully at him as she squeezes back. He wants to anchor her and reassure her after the kind of day she's had—being ambushed at Simon's apartment, getting suspended from work, no doubt stressing and worrying about too many things to even count… She's gone from crying to ranting to kissing to fretting in the space of mere hours and he's surprised she hasn't fallen apart even more.

They sit in silence, and he lets Madge decide when she wants to start talking again. After a few minutes, she glances at the bedroom doorway. "The secret trials possibility is probably the most serious thing. Perri's really upset about it. I've never seen her like this… She's calling people she knew when she was a judge to see if anyone knows anything—"

"I thought she ran that underground printing press," Gale interrupts, but even as he's saying it he thinks back to the meeting when Perri and the other new committee members were introduced—he wasn't even trying to pay attention and must have completely missed hearing how and why she got involved with the rebels… He also realizes he can absolutely see Perri as a judge: he's felt judged by her every second he's known her.

"She started the printing press after she faked a nervous breakdown and moved back here with my grandparents," Madge says. "Did you really not know she was a judge? She chairs the ethics and justice sub-committee, and she administered that confidentiality oath to you when I first came back…"

"What do I know about how all that stuff works?" Gale asks testily. "Your dad and the Peacekeepers were the only judges we had in 12, and my run-in with the Peacekeepers didn't involve any _confidentiality oaths_. It was pretty damn public." He remembers all those helpless faces staring at him as the Peacekeepers tied him to the post, a reminder lesson in just how powerless their entire district was. He can still feel the sick smacking of the whip on his flesh and instinctively rolls his shoulders to lift his shirt off his back for a few seconds.

"Does it still hurt?" Madge asks quietly, releasing his hand to reach for his shoulder.

He shakes his head. The occasional physical discomfort barely registers in comparison to the painful memories he struggles constantly not to drown in. But he lets Madge touch him, gently running her fingers over the uneven ridges of scar tissue on his back just below his collar; she somehow makes both the physical and the mental pain not as bad. He's also found some relief from the attacks of regret and guilt in knowing that every day he's doing his best to make up for his wrongs by working on this rebuilding stuff, even though the endless arguments and meetings and slowness of it all infuriate him…

Madge pulls her hand back and worriedly watches Gale. "Do you… blame my father?"

Why is she asking about this old issue? But if answering gives her one less thing to worry about then that's good enough for him. "No," he says truthfully. "He couldn't have done anything. Poaching was a Peacekeeper issue. But I do hope that Peacekeeper died a painful death in the war." _Very_ painful.

"My dad felt terrible about what that last batch of Peacekeepers did to the district," Madge says sadly. "And that was something out of his power. Perri won't even talk about what she had to do before she got out…"

Gale thinks back to Simon's comment about Perri having a dark history and suddenly understands what he meant. To be the one actually sentencing people to avoxings or executions if she didn't believe in the crimes or the punishments—which clearly she didn't, based on what he knows about her now—would be devastating. She's probably dealing with the kind of guilt Gale knows something about. She's also probably just as motivated to protect Madge as he is, and definitely better equipped to help Madge than he is in this new type of battlefield involving confidentiality oaths and secret trials and suddenly illegal surveillance.

"Come on," Gale says resolutely, climbing off the bed and pulling Madge with him. It's time for them to get her out of this mess. "Let's go see what Perri found out."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy New Year! I hope everybody had a great holiday season. Thanks for the reviews, appreciated as always. :)


	18. Two Heads Are Better

**Author's Note:** I'm back! SO SORRY for this delay. I was dealing with an unbelievably stressful schedule and working my way through a few tricky things in this story. I'm happy to report that both the schedule and the story are better under control now. Thanks for being patient.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18: Two Heads Are Better<strong>

Madge follows Gale into the kitchen, where they find Perri dividing her attention between a pair of tea cups on the counter and a television at half-volume on the small table. Perri smiles slightly as her eyes drift toward their linked hands, but thankfully she limits her comments to offering them tea.

Gale ignores the tea and launches straight into his questions. "What can we do to help Madge?"

"I'm looking into it," Perri says calmly. "No one has been available this afternoon. All these stories about spying, secret trials, and the sudden ban on surveillance are probably causing quite a stir within the government. Calling me back isn't anyone's top priority right now."

"I say we go to the media ourselves and start broadcasting the truth instead of all this garbage," Gale says. "I know all the major outlets, I can call one and—"

"That won't work." Madge puts her hand on his chest to calm him. "It will just get me in more trouble if I break confidentiality. And I don't have any real evidence and don't want to tip off anyone that they're being investigated if there's still a chance to catch them."

Perri passes one of the tea cups to Gale and waits until he takes it. "It's still possible the internal review of Madge's actions will be fair."

"So the plan is to do nothing?" Gale roughly sets his tea on the table, dark liquid sloshing over cup's rim. "We need to make a move, not just sit here and let people throw all these bombs at us. _We fight back._"

Madge flinches at Gale's vehemence, remembering too vividly what it felt like that final night in District 12 when they really did just have to try to dodge the bombs being dropped on them.

"We have certain tools we can use," he continues. "Public opinion can be swayed. _I_ can sway it. Without giving away anything confidential."

Perri shakes her head. "To what end? And to use a battle metaphor, who is the enemy here? The people Madge has been investigating? Or people within Covert Intelligence?"

"Both," Madge says vehemently. "Simon's brother and his partners are using the press to manipulate public opinion, as a way to influence the government."

"Exactly, so we get public opinion on your side to protect you," Gale says.

Perri sighs impatiently. "With _what_, Gale? You making a generic statement that you think Madge is a nice, well-meaning girl who's being treated unfairly won't go very far if you can't back it up with more than your opinion. You're biased. And frankly I'm more concerned about Madge being subjected to a closed pseudo-judicial proceeding—"

"A secret trial," Madge translates for Gale.

"—than what these fools on the television are saying. We need to figure out who's behind all this and handle it ourselves—off camera—which is what I'm working on." Perri glances at Madge, who quickly takes an interest in the tiles on the kitchen floor. Perri has never liked Madge's job and hadn't reacted well to hearing about some of the methods Madge has used. It hasn't left Madge feeling optimistic that the inquiry will wrap up tidily or in her favor, but Perri's implied disapproval almost feels worse.

Gale is frowning again, clearly not enthusiastic about a plan that doesn't involve him pummeling somebody or commandeering the airwaves. "I don't trust the people Madge works for."

"I don't trust anyone," Perri says, "but I want to. Otherwise what are we doing in all those meetings?" She gazes at Gale for a few seconds and then adds firmly, "I'm not letting anything happen to Madge."

There's an authority to her tone that reminds Madge momentarily of her father, which triggers another pang of missing him. Like Perri, he would have done whatever he could think of to help her, even if he had reservations about what she'd done.

Gale glances at Madge and then scowls at the same tiles Madge had just been studying. "So what are Madge and I supposed to do while you're calling people?"

Madge can think of a few ways they could entertain themselves back in her bedroom, but Perri's already talking again. "You could focus on your own job, Gale," she says dryly. "I spoke to Rhoda this afternoon. You shouldn't have left as early as you did."

"Are you _kidding_ me—"

Perri cuts him off. "At the sub-committee meeting you missed, the group approved putting Committee Member Douglas's land distribution proposal out for a public vote before all the citizens. Soon."

Gale looks stunned, and then narrows his eyes. "Those stupid committees don't do _anything_ fast." He sounds as suspicious as Madge feels. "How could they have read and approved that proposal so quickly?"

"Apparently Douglas made it seem straightforward and urgent. Rhoda said nobody else knew anything about it so the members felt they might as well proceed."

"Douglas is no good," Madge says darkly to Gale. "He's tight with a bunch of the slimiest of the former Capitol people. Friends with Simon's brother," she adds, which she considers reason enough to be dislike him. "And also with that guy at the bank who gave the tabloids that security tape of me." That especially still rankles, since she was just setting up an audit, not doing anything more… controversial.

"I don't like Douglas, either," Gale says. "He's lazy, and he stole that land distribution proposal project away from me. I haven't even read that proposal yet—who knows what the committee just approved?" He glowers for a few seconds and then looks up at Madge with wide eyes. She can see the idea forming in his mind at the same time it occurs to her.

"Did you bring the proposal with you?" she asks eagerly.

He's already backing out of the room. "It's in the car…"

Madge rushes to follow him. As she leaves, she glances back into the kitchen at her aunt, who's reaching for the phone again. She smiles gratefully at Perri, who returns the smile with a small nod and a shooing gesture.

#

A half hour later, Madge is sitting with Gale on the small sofa in the living room while they read through the land distribution proposal. Madge leans back against the arm of the sofa and nudges her feet under Gale's leg on the other cushion. He looks up and smiles. Then he wraps his arm around her legs and turns his attention back to his half of the proposal. She can hear Perri's low murmur on the phone in the kitchen and feels a strange mix of excitement and contentment that she and Gale can work together like this. It's almost like when they plotted together in District 12, only now she doesn't have to pretend not to be attracted to him.

Their current seating arrangement was a compromise between not wanting to sit on separate pieces of furniture and actually still making some progress reading through the proposal. Since there was only one copy, they had started out next to each other. But then Madge noticed that Gale had started using a different type of aftershave, and inquiring about it somehow devolved into a kissing break. She wasn't quite sure who started it and decided to blame the aftershave manufacturers. Then after they'd returned to reading, her hair kept getting caught in Gale's mouth, which she took as an encouraging sign that it was finally growing longer. It also probably meant Gale was spending more energy smelling her hair than reading, which led to another unplanned break. Once they'd gotten back on track and through the proposal's introductory section, they decided they should just divide the rest of it up so they could read independently.

There hadn't been anything especially alarming in the introduction, just an overview of how each district's land area would be increased. The existing borders were to be expanded and divided into parcels that would be made available for sale. People could then purchase the land with either money or its equivalent according to a formula that valued serving in the rebellion and past labor given to the Capitol by people like the miners of District 12. Once the borders were set, there would be elections for district governments and representatives from each district to a central parliament. Gale had said it was all consistent with what they'd discussed during the meetings and that he might have even agreed to approve advancing it to a public vote. But Madge pointed out that the proposal was hundreds of pages long and that a lot of things that sound good in a general fall apart when you look at the details. So they'd split up proposal and dug in.

Madge has been focused on District 7 since she spent the end of the war there and that's where Douglas is from. He'd been one of the targets of her investigations, and the fact that he pulled this skeezy maneuver when Gale was preoccupied with scandals makes her suspicious.

She feels cool air on her ankle as Gale pulls his hand away to turn a page in the report. Then he sits forward and flips roughly to the next page.

"This is wrong," he announces.

"How?" Madge scoots closer to him and sees that he's looking a map in the section of the report on District 12. She feels a jolt of excitement: of course Gale would notice if anything was off in District 12. He and Katniss knew the area outside District 12 better than anyone.

"Look." Gale puts the map front of her. "See the area where the mine was when we lived there? Basically it's around these four major coal seams." His finger moves along four gray hatched areas on the map. "But we completely mined these two seams already. There's nothing left. We were just starting on a new one, but it's not shown here. That area's marked 'unavailable for bidding.'"

While Gale keeps frowning at the map, Madge looks through the report until she finds what she needs. "Unavailable for bidding means land set aside for pre-approved companies and individuals, like members of those partnerships between Capitol investors and district citizens. The prices for those parcels are set according to formulas in Appendix B… Basically, this rewards those companies for 'taking the risk and initiative' to get industry going again. They get a deal." She skims ahead to Appendix B and feels like her eyes have crossed there are so many symbols and equations in fine print. "_Ugh._ You'd have to be a genius to figure out these formulas!" Looking at Gale again, she says, "It's probably safe to assume that if the prices are based on hiding what makes the land valuable, like coal, then those prices aren't fair."

Gale tosses his half of the proposal onto the coffee table and slouches back into the sofa. "Why bother going through this charade? I'm not the only one who knows where the coal seams are in 12."

Madge grimaces; this fits all too well with her theories. "Didn't the underground fires from the bombs burn some of those coal seams? And all the records in 12 were destroyed. If someone is purposefully hiding where the seams are, they have a good cover story for this being an innocent mistake. They probably think it's worth a shot, since who's actually reading this long, confusing proposal? And so few people survived in 12, who is going to try to buy up land and start a mine?"

"I can't think of any miners who survived who would," Gale admits.

"But other people want to," Madge says. "Especially the ones who used to control all that coal before the war. The Capitol owned it when we lived in 12 because they owned everything, and now I think a lot of those same people are angling to own it again—individually or through their companies." She shrugs. "They don't care, as long as they're the ones who have it. Same thing in the other districts—I bet you anything Douglas has cooked up some scheme to get the best timber stands. And then who cares if the Capitol lost the war if all the same people still control all the resources?"

That's what frustrates her the most; the possibility that the war didn't change things enough and that life could so easily slide back into the way it used to be.

Madge looks back at the District 12 map. "When I was in 12, I saw schematics for a new type of mining where they knock the top off a mountain to get to the coal seams more easily. Nobody from 12 would have the kind of money for that kind of operation; it could only be done with one of those Capitol investor partnerships. And if they're the ones benefiting from hiding where the coal—or whatever else—is, you can be sure they'll convince other people to vote for it, too."

"This isn't how these things are supposed to work," Gale declares as he kicks the coffee table in frustration. "This proposal is crap—it shouldn't be voted on. I'm stopping it first thing tomorrow."

"It has to be stopped before the vote," Madge agrees, "but that won't stop the bad seeds who set all this up…" She looks longingly at the map of 12, wishing the wrongdoing were clearer so they could actually bust someone. "This is the problem I keep running into, Gale. Everything adds up in theory, but I don't have proof… This looks suspicious, but can easily be explained away." The panicky, resigned feeling returns and she swallows nervously. What has she gotten for all her efforts trying to figure out this puzzle? Suspension, scandal, and the knowledge that she's disrupted the lives of people close to her. Gale's family can't even be in his apartment without being harassed.

Gale scowls and then reaches for Madge's half of the proposal and flips to the section on District 2. His eyebrows look even heavier than usual as he frowns at the maps in the back of the section. Madge fights the urge to look over his shoulder since being that close to him could lead to another "break" and he seems to be concentrating…

After a few minutes he looks up at Madge with a sly smile.

"I have an idea."

#

The jeep bumps along the narrow, pothole-strewn road until they reach a village Madge hasn't visited before. It's fairly close to her aunt and uncle's village, she's just never had an occasion to visit until now.

"This is your friend Milo?" Madge asks Gale from the passenger seat. "He's the one you do all that rock climbing with, right?"

"That's him. He worked in a quarry before the war. Good guy."

Madge smiles at the Gale-equivalent of lavish praise and looks out the window. They're pulling up in front of one of the drab, single-story houses typical of all the outer villages of the district. Gale had said Milo worked for the surveying company that provided the maps to Douglas, and that he might be able to help them figure out how (and even why) the map of District 2 in the land distribution proposal was wrong.

A muscular boy their age is sitting on the front stoop of the house rubbing a waxy substance into the exterior of a hiking boot. He smiles and rises as he sees Gale and Madge approaching from the car.

"Welcome, celebrities," he says with a grin, sticking his hand out to Madge, who shakes it. "I'm Milo. And unfortunately I know who you are."

"It's all bullshit," Gale says forcefully.

"You aren't Margaret?" Milo asks. He raises his eyebrows at her. "Gale's _old friend_ from District 12?"

"I go by Madge," she clarifies. "But yes, I'm from District 12."

"That's what I thought," Milo says triumphantly. "Gale's mentioned you."

Surprised, Madge glances at Gale just in time to see him do that thing where he tries to hide that he smiled at something. His usual stern expression restores itself, and he glances up and down the street.

"Can we go inside?"

"Sure, come on in." Milo picks up his boots and ushers them inside the door, away from any prying neighbors' eyes. Although from what Madge has seen so far, she doubts Milo has the type of problems with his neighbors that Gale seems to have. "Good timing," he says as he guides them to a small living room. "I just got back from a trip. Heading out again tomorrow. Hey, either of you want a beer?"

Gale shakes his head and Madge follows suit. "We need to talk to you about your maps," Gale says.

Milo disappears into the kitchen. Madge can hear the refrigerator opening. "You need more copies, Gale?" he calls. "Your office should have everything they needed for that land proposal. I heard it was a rush job; that's why I haven't been at the wall lately. Practically live in the forest these days."

"We need to know how you make the maps," Gale calls back. Madge takes the opportunity to peer around Milo's house. It reminds her of Gale's apartment: muddy gear piled near the front doorway, maps tacked up on walls, and a mountain of unopened mail on the kitchen counter.

Milo returns with a bottle of beer and flops into a ratty-looking armchair in the living room. He gestures for Gale and Madge to sit on the couch as he puts his feet up on a coffee table covered with even more maps.

"What do you want to know?"

Gale moves to the couch and perches on the edge as though he's not committed to the idea of sitting. Madge sits next to him and feels grateful that Milo doesn't seem to think she's a treacherous spy. She does wonder though what Gale said about her to Milo… She can barely get a few words out of him, and half the time he ends up kissing her instead of talking, which she assumes doesn't happen with Milo.

"What happens with the maps after you do the field work?" Gale asks.

"I give my field notes and coordinates on the rough map to the boss, he pretties them up, and then turns them over to the head honchos on the Reconstruction Committee."

"Do you see them after he pretties them up?"

"No, it's all computerized and I'm usually back in the field."

Gale pulls out the maps Douglas included in the land proposal and sets them on the coffee table. Milo scoots forward to study the maps while Gale stands and retrieves a few of Milo's own maps from the wall, adding those to the ones on the table.

After a few seconds of studying the maps side by side, Milo sits back. "Shit."

Gale nods grimly, but Madge doesn't understand what they've seen and gently squeezes Gale's leg to remind him to explain to her.

He lays two maps in front of her. "When Milo surveys an area, he also collects information about the types of rocks, minerals and other things people care about. It's included on the map. These are actual surveys, Madge, not like the maps of District 12 where people could claim they were only guessing about what might be there. And look at the difference between Milo's field maps and the ones in the proposal. The locations of the good stuff—the minerals and things worth money—are missing or are switched around. Copper, coal, silver…"

Madge holds the two maps next to each other and follows along where Gale's pointing. This is the best proof she's seen that anyone is deliberately hiding information everyone else has a right to and it fits with her theories… She peers at Milo, who set his beer aside and is looking at the maps with a worried expression. She wonders if Milo is in on it…

Gale doesn't seem to share that concern, though. "Do you think your bosses are messing with these maps?"

"I don't know," Milo says as he runs a hand over his stubble-covered chin. "I'm not around them much. I turn over my stuff, get my paycheck and my next assignment, and then hit the road."

Gale frowns and continues to study the maps, so Madge asks Milo for the names of the people in charge of the company. He digs up one of the business cards. "It's just those two in the office here in District 2 and a bunch of rockheads like me in the field, but I think they've been expanding into some of the other districts, too."

Madge tries to keep her expression calm, but she recognizes from her own investigations the names on the card. She catches Gale's eye and gives a tiny nod so he'll know this is encouraging evidence.

Milo notices their exchange. "So… is the company in trouble?"

"It depends," Madge says hesitantly. "If they were altering maps, that's not good… If someone else is doing it, maybe not… Are you supposed to keep these rough copies? Does anyone know you have them?"

He shakes his head sheepishly. "I'm supposed to turn them in, but sometimes I let Hawthorne borrow them. _Unofficially_. I'd get canned if they knew."

Gale sits forward on the couch and gazes sternly at Milo. "Don't say anything at work, but we need you to see if you can figure out who exactly is behind the changes."

Milo blinks a few times. "This is my _job_. How am I supposed to pay my rent if the company folds—"

"If these people are involved in something illegal, you don't want to be caught up in it," Gale cuts in. He glances at Madge. "I don't know what the exact crimes are, but you're going to want to be on the right side of this."

Madge offers a partial list of the possible crimes. "It depends on what's been happening, but offhand I can see there might be corruption, fraud, forging of government records…"

Gale keeps watching Milo. "Madge and I will go confirm some of this on our own. If I can say that I know for a fact that certain parts of the District 2 map are wrong, then you won't have to get involved if it turns out the changes are being made after your company turn the maps over. But I still need you to try to find out who's making the changes." He leans forward. "_This is important._"

Milo still looks unsettled to Madge, and she guesses Gale can sense his friend's discomfort as well because he adds in a gentler tone, "If you do end up needing another job, I could probably help you out. I know a lot of people now…"

Madge thinks Gale looks a little embarrassed to admit that he's got some pull and squeezes his leg again to signal that he's doing the right thing. He shoots a grateful look at her and then they both return to watching Milo.

Milo nods slowly while looking at the maps. And then his face relaxes into the ease Madge saw when they first arrived. "Guess I can always crash with you if I end up homeless, huh, Hawthorne? Bet Madge would be thrilled about that—some guy always hanging around when you want to be alone?"

He grins cheekily at Madge. Before she has a chance to blush, Gale rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch.

"In that case, I would definitely help you get a new job."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2:** The next update won't take anywhere near this long, I promise. Lots of Hawthorne family action in the next chapter. Thanks to everyone for the reviews! I appreciate the feedback.

Also, if anyone hasn't seen it yet, I posted a mini-fic called "Tuesday Night in Town" during my break from this story. Just a little Gadge diversion back in District 12.


	19. Hawthornes Everywhere

**Chapter 19: Hawthornes Everywhere**

By the time they get back to Madge's aunt and uncle's house, it's nearly the dinner hour. Gale parks in front of the house and looks up and down the street. "No cameras or press vehicles. Nobody's found us here yet."

"Oh." Madge realizes she forgot to tell him. "Dusty changed the town records when he was at work to hide our address. Until this dies down. If someone really wanted to find us they could, but they'd have to actually do research and travel all the way out here." She shrugs. "I guess nobody's put in the effort."

Gale gazes at her for a few seconds and then gives a half laugh. "I thought sneakiness was just on the Undersee side of the family."

"It's contagious," Madge grins. "Be careful or you'll catch it, too."

Gale unbuckles his seat belt leans across the seat toward her with a wicked smile. "I wouldn't mind catching it."

Madge meets him halfway, amazed both that they can kiss whenever they want now and that he's just as eager as she is for whatever moments they can steal together. Before her ability to think fades completely, she calculates that they could stay in the car for at least a few minutes without it becoming unseemly… Although Gale's hands are already wandering so maybe not…

After what feels like no time at all there's a rapping on the window behind Gale, which causes him to make an impatient sound low in his throat. Madge opens her eyes and sees Vick, Posy, and Zipper's heads all peering into the car. Vick at least has the decency to look embarrassed, but Posy is bouncing up and down.

"Gale, stop kissing!" she shouts through the window.

Gale disentangles himself from Madge and pushes his door open, scattering their audience. "You couldn't wait five seconds for us to come inside the house?"

As Madge slides out the door on her side she thinks she hears Vick make a snorting sound and say, "Yeah right, five seconds."

When she reaches the other side of the car, Posy and Vick are demonstrating a trick they supposedly taught Zipper, but as soon as Zipper spots Madge he darts over and jumps on her. Gale yells at him to get off, which he does, and as they all walk to the house Madge realizes that she barely even feels embarrassed. Everyone has moved on to other topics, which might be one of the benefits of having so many people around all the time—the collective attention span is so short. It occurs to her that Gale's siblings might also be used to catching him kissing girls.

Vick is excitedly recounting all the wonders of Dusty's workshop in the garage. "He said me and Rory can use the welding machine after dinner. Have you used it yet, Gale? He has _everything_."

Posy grabs onto Gale's arm. "Gale, please please please play Rodeo Dog with me before dinner. Rory and Vick have been so boring and Mom is always _talking _to the other lad_y_. I _need_ someone to time how long I can stay on Zipper!"

Madge pushes open the door to the house and just barely avoids being knocked over by Zipper as he bolts inside, vigilantly patrolling to ensure that nothing exciting happened during his two-minute absence. They find Perri and Hazelle sitting on the full-size couch in the living room—they apparently hadn't felt the need to snuggle on the two-person love seat the way Gale and Madge had.

"Did you have a nice visit with your friend, dear?" Hazelle asks Gale.

"Yeah. Good." He tries to push Posy off his arm. Madge watches Vick vanish into the garage, the whirring of the sander temporarily intensified as the door opens and shuts.

"_Really_ good," Madge adds with a meaningful look at Perri, who nods microscopically in acknowledgment.

Hazelle aims her smile at Madge. "We're having spaghetti for dinner tonight. Your aunt said it's your favorite."

"Great!" Madge says a little overly enthusiastically. Then she immediately feels the urge to hide behind Gale. Going from being borderline rude to his mom this afternoon to being freakishly excited about spaghetti is probably not helping her make a good impression. She strains for something she can do or say to seem like a perfectly pleasant, well-adjusted young woman and glances at Perri.

"Do you… need any help with dinner?"

Her aunt and uncle haven't taken Madge up on her offers since the Charred Noodles Disaster of June. She prays Perri didn't mention that particular incident to Hazelle.

Perri bites back a smile. "No, but thank you."

Relieved, Madge turns to Gale, who somehow ended up holding Posy. "I'm going to try to call Simon, okay? About tomorrow." He nods and says he'll update Perri on their visit with Milo.

Madge retreats to the quiet of her bedroom. If the house could talk, it would probably ask how its occupancy number could have swollen so quickly to eight people. Zipper also seems to have the ability to multiply himself, because even with more people he manages to be everywhere at once.

Simon doesn't answer his mobile phone so she leaves another message. He was going to lie low for a few days, but Madge hadn't thought that meant he wouldn't return her calls… It's disorienting to not be able to talk to him, especially now that she and Gale have a solid lead on Committee Member Douglas being as shady as she'd suspected. She also wants to tell Simon that she and Gale are going to drive out to the border region tomorrow morning to verify for themselves that the proposal's maps are wrong. It feels like going on a field mission without checking with him first, which she's never done before. But she should be fine—she'll be with Gale, who's still on active duty in the army and plus is _Gale_.

Madge sits on her bed and tries to compose herself before returning to the living room. Strange as it is to acknowledge, Gale's family intimidates her: she wants them to like her but can't see why they would, especially after today, and can't figure out where to focus her energy to win them over. Gale doesn't seem to be fazed by his siblings talking and hanging on him at once, but it overwhelms Madge. How can he just ignore someone speaking to him? And how could his mom possibly like her? Besides all the tabloid coverage, she caught them together at Gale's house in the morning!

Then there's Rory, who barely even looks at her. Simon's brother hates her, too. She's starting to suspect that the universe has cursed her by ensuring brothers don't like her. Like it isn't bad enough that she doesn't have any brothers or sisters of her own, she can't even get along with the ones related to two of the most important people in her life?

A knock on her bedroom door pulls Madge out of her thoughts. "Come in," she calls.

The door opens and Zipper bursts into the room, sniffing everything he can as though it's been decades rather than minutes since his last inspection. Posy stumbles and grabs the doorframe so she doesn't accidentally topple into the room. When she balances herself, she looks shyly at Madge.

"The tall lady said to tell you dinner's ready."

"Thank you," Madge says politely, unsure of what else to say. How does she talk to someone Posy's age? What _is_ Posy's age? Posy is several inches taller than Madge remembers her being in District 12 and seems to be capable of conversation, so Madge decides to just ask… "Posy? How old are you?"

"This many." Posy extends all the fingers on one hand and holds up one finger on the other hand. She doesn't move from her spot in the doorway. "How old are you?"

Madge kicks off her sandals and then holds out her feet and eight fingers. "This many. Eighteen."

Posy nods thoughtfully. "That means you don't have to be in the reapings anymore?"

Hearing the word "reaping" makes Madge's stomach clench. It's that time of year; she hadn't thought much about it because the climate in District 2 is so different from 12. The summer air can be warm during the day, but never oppressive the way it was back home. "Nobody has to go through reapings anymore," she manages to get out.

"Because District 12 burned down," Posy supplies sagely.

Madge blinks in confusion. Does Posy really think that? Luckily, Madge is saved from responding by the appearance in the hallway of Gale, who scoops up his sister. "Not quite, Shorty."

Posy squeals happily, the topic already forgotten, and Gale smiles sadly at Madge. She gets it: no six-year-old should have to understand more about the reapings than whatever foggy, fearful memories Posy has that haven't faded yet. They can make sure she understands when she's older, but the important thing for now is that she'll never have to endure the reapings herself or watch her friends and brothers cower in those awful roped-off areas on the old town square the way Gale and Madge and so many others did for all those years.

Madge stands up from her bed and joins Gale and Posy in the doorway. Gale leans over to kiss her head and before Madge realizes what's happening, Posy has leaned over to kiss her, too.

Posy smiles at her. "Your hair is soft. But I liked it better longer."

Madge breathes a sigh of relief; hair is something she can talk about with Posy. "I liked it better longer too," she admits. "But it will grow back. Like before but maybe a little different." She smiles at Posy and slides her hand into Gale's for the short walk to the kitchen.

#

Dinner is lively, with Posy and Vick competing for the spotlight to describe their thrilling discoveries exploring the neighborhood, wading in the creek that runs through the center of the village, and sampling the local cuisine (a wild raspberry bush near the creek). Perri and Dusty take turns regaling everyone with stories of Zipper's exploits chasing mice through the neighbor's flower beds, and Hazelle shares news about people moving back to District 12. Madge doesn't know many of them because they lived in the Seam, but the idea of people returning to 12 is comforting.

Mostly she's grateful to let other people do the talking so she can sink into the background, listening and passing the serving dishes. For a few minutes at a time she's able to forget that she's the target of a slander campaign and in trouble at work. She especially appreciates the relaxed smile that works its way onto Gale's face as he listens to his family and describes for them the hikes he's taken with Zipper and the places he wants to show them. The only person more quiet than Madge is Rory, who sullenly mashes his carrots into a puree and emerges from his funk only long enough to answer direct questions about the metal shelves he and Vick have been helping Dusty construct in the garage.

Everyone agrees that the Hawthornes will stay overnight at the Whistlers' house to avoid any lingering tabloid people staking out Gale's apartment. Gale and the kids will test out his new tent with their new sleeping bags in the backyard—he had Rory pack all the gear as part of their escape. Rory doesn't seem very enthusiastic about the camping idea and disappears back into the garage as soon as dinner is over, which Madge notices does put a damper on Gale's newfound improved mood.

Madge starts picking up dinner plates and waves away everyone else. They all either helped with dinner or have somewhere else to be. Tidying up is the least she can do, especially considering her scandal is the reason everyone's lives have been disrupted. Dusty and Vick join Rory in the workshop, Perri and Hazelle retire to the living room for more visiting, and Gale, Posy, and Zipper disappear into the backyard ostensibly to put the tent together. But Madge hears enough laughter and barking filtering in through the window after a few minutes to be fairly certain that Posy talked her way into a game of Rodeo Dog.

She immerses herself in scrubbing the dishes. The time passes quickly since she's so preoccupied worrying about the inquiry at work and where Simon might be. Forcing herself to think about more pleasant topics leads to a meandering daydream involving Gale and the sunny dinner picnic they'd shared on their hike last week before everything fell apart. If they could return to that moment now, she's pretty sure they would have found a way to linger on that warm vista…

The soft sound of shoes on the kitchen tiles behind her makes Madge turn around. She sees Rory frozen mid-step in the doorway to the kitchen, radiating indecision about whether to enter or not.

Madge smiles tentatively. "Hi—"

"You going to get that?" he asks, gesturing behind her. Madge turns to find the sink overflowing with soapy water.

"Shit!" She lunges for the faucet handle to shut off the flow but the water is already spilling over the sink's rim, down the cabinets. Madge grabs a dishtowel from the counter and tries to mop up the mess. Only then does it occur to her that she just swore in front of Rory. Should she apologize? Will he think she's a priss if she apologizes? Gale swears all the time, so maybe Rory is used to it but Rory is younger... With a sigh she realizes that she's no more equipped to talk to 13-year-old boys than six-year-old girls. She didn't know how to talk to them when she was that age and she still doesn't.

Rory pulls another towel from the counter and squats to help Madge wipe up the excess water.

"Thanks," she says. "I guess I spaced out."

He shrugs, a familiar Gale gesture. Madge watches him out of the corner of her eye and notices that he also bears a distinct resemblance to Gale in his eyebrows—heavy and inclined toward frowning—though Rory's eyes are softer in a certain way. Sometimes when she looks at Gale he reminds her of a hawk, but Rory's more like an overgrown fawn. He has that gangly, almost-grown look, tinged with hints of childhood.

When the floor is dry again, they both stand. Madge puts the soggy towels on the counter. "Do you… want something to drink? We have milk and juice and this fizzy orange drink I really like—"

"Some water," Rory says gruffly. "Um, please."

Madge fills a glass with water and hands it to him. "I'm glad you all could visit," she ventures.

Rory glowers at her. "Well, Gale wasn't visiting us so we had to come all the way out here."

"Have you… talked to him about why he didn't visit?"

"I figured he was busy with you."

Madge stares at Rory, his hostility suddenly making more sense, although the accusation stings. "No," she says, shaking her head. "He wouldn't see me, either."

Rory doesn't say anything, but he doesn't leave. He just watches Madge suspiciously.

"I think he was punishing himself," Madge says hesitantly, not sure how or if she should be venturing into this topic with Rory. Is she violating a sibling code of some kind? But she's concerned that Rory could think Gale would be selfish in that way. "You know how hard Gale is on other people?" she asks. Rory makes a grunting sound that Madge decides signifies agreement. "He's much worse when he thinks he's the one who should be blamed."

"He said he didn't know they'd actually made that bomb, though," Rory says impatiently. "And he wouldn't in a million years have hurt Prim."

"I know. But he wanted to make himself suffer. And I think he convinced himself that he was a bad influence on you all, that you were better off away from him."

"But that wasn't fair to _us_! All those people on TV talked to him more than we did. _Strangers and idiots_ got more of him than we did."

"I'm not saying it was a _good_ strategy," Madge says. "I was mad at him, too. But then we ran into each other on last week and… it just didn't make sense to be mad at him anymore. He's struggling in his own way and I'd rather help him and have him in my life than not." She waits a few moments while Rory absorbs what she's said and then adds, "He's trying. He's a lot better now than when I first saw him at the beginning of the summer. And I do think it's good for all of you to have this visit, even if it's overdue. You're so lucky to have each other."

She can't help her voice from cracking slightly on the last comment, which Rory notices. He turns the water glass in his hands a few times and then looks up at her. "I'm… sorry about your parents," he says quietly.

Madge swallows, not trusting herself to speak right away. She can't imagine ever getting used to hearing aloud that they're gone, or not feeling like there's a piece of her core missing whenever she's reminded. But a simple statement of sympathy is about all she can handle, and coming from someone who's also lost a parent it leaves her grateful that he knows not to say anything more. There isn't much else to say. After a few moments of blinking back tears, she feels steady enough to return the sentiment.

"I'm sorry about your friend."

Rory nods in acknowledgement, but seems to be preoccupied with his own memories. She lets him stand quietly with his glass of water. His armor of anger is cracked now and she can see that he's just a boy in pain, which makes her feel foolish for not having realized he doesn't just share eyebrow similarities with Gale.

Madge doesn't want to make any sudden moves or comments that might scare him away, but soon noise bursts in through the sliding glass door in the other room. Zipper bolts into the house and heads straight for Hazelle and Perri in the living room, chased by an exuberant Posy.

Gale trails them and pauses at the sight of Rory and Madge in the kitchen. "All right in here?"

Madge nods and thankfully Rory does as well, even though he's focusing on his water instead of his brother.

Gale looks back and forth between them. "We finally got the tent up." He gestures for them to follow him so Madge walks toward the back door, but Rory heads to the front of the house where the garage is. Gale watches him walk away until Posy grabs his hand and pulls him outside again.

Madge follows them into the backyard. Through the fading light of the evening she can see in the middle of the grassy area an olive green, nylon dome tall enough for Madge but probably not Gale to stand upright. Posy runs over to it and is joined seconds later by Vick, who rushes out of the house and starts gushing as though the tent is the single best invention known to humanity. Gale apparently agrees, because he launches into a lengthy description for Madge about all of the tent's features. To hear Gale talk, the tent is a fortress capable of withstanding any hostile weather or terrain or alien invasion that might threaten its occupants.

"But can it handle Zipper?" Madge asks with a smile.

Gale glares briefly at Zipper, who's trailing Posy as she checks the stakes securing the tent in the grass. "Zipper isn't invited on any trips unless he shapes up. You know," he adds in an accusing tone, "I think your aunt and uncle like it when he's bad. They think he's funny."

The same thought has occurred to Madge. "He _is_ funny. Is laughing so bad?"

Gale turns to look at her, and she can see she surprised him. He squints at her for a second and then shifts his gaze back toward the house with a frown. "How was Rory? He won't talk to me."

"He's hurting." It's the simplest, truest way to describe what she knows about Rory.

Gale watches her as if he's waiting for her to say something more illuminating. When she doesn't, he exhales slowly and rubs his eyes. "I used to think all I needed to do for them was to keep the cupboards from being completely empty… I didn't think about the rest of it…"

She pats his arm comfortingly. "We're all figuring things out as we go."

He covers her hand with his and gazes at her for a few seconds, until the sound of the sound of the sliding door opening again draws their attention to the house.

Rory emerges from the bright lights holding several armloads worth of sleeping bags and pillows. Madge can feel Gale's muscles relax as he realizes that Rory was just collecting the bedding. Gale walks straight over to help ease the burden.

"We need all this, don't we?" Rory asks Gale brusquely.

"Absolutely," Gale says as he transfers some of the pillows to his own arms. He and Rory cross the yard to the tent and toss the sleeping bags and pillows inside, where Vick and Posy catch them. Rory crawls into the tent as well and Madge can hear him squabbling with Vick and Posy in their cute, overly-serious-kid way about how to arrange the pillows and the sleeping bags.

Madge takes the opportunity to slide her arms around Gale's neck. Within seconds she feels his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. "You know what I think?" she asks.

"That we should risk the tabloids and go back to my apartment tonight alone?"

"No." Although it's a tempting idea. "I think you're doing the right thing—spending time with them, camping out here. It's good for all of you."

"Yeah, I guess," Gale says, glancing at the tent. Madge notices that there's significantly more commotion now: laughter and muffled _whomping_ sounds. Gale pulls himself away from her and peers inside the door of the tent. Madge joins him and is shocked to see his brothers and sister using the sleeping bags and pillows as weapons, whipping them around at one another between fits of giggling. Zipper also wormed his way into the tent, adding a layer of barking to the chaos.

Rory suddenly appears in the door of the tent. He scowls at Gale and then, before Madge can register what's happening, whips Gale in the gut with a pillow. Gale stumbles backward and seems stunned.

"Bet you can't still take all of us anymore," Rory says evenly. And then the corner of his mouth turns up slightly in a gesture Madge has seen on Gale many times.

Gale immediately kicks off his shoes. "You're on." Rory disappears back inside the tent and Gale pauses only long enough to grab Madge. "Come on."

"_Go in there?_" Did he miss the fact that the tent is the epicenter of a _brawl_?

"Usually it's me against them, but I've got you now." He steps into the melee and is immediately assaulted by sleeping bags, pillows, and a dog. Gale grabs an unclaimed pillow and uses it to fend off the attacks.

Before she can figure out what to do, Madge feels a whoosh of cushiony nylon fabric whip her legs. She turns around and sees Vick holding a sleeping bag and grinning at her triumphantly. But only for a second, because then Gale sweeps his brother's legs and tips Vick over into a giddy pile of laughter on top of an unfurled sleeping bag. When Madge looks up, Rory and Posy are launching a dual attack on Gale and manage to knock him over and bury him under their pillows and a nearby sleeping bag.

"Gale?" She leans over to check on him, which turns out to be a mistake because Vick takes the opportunity to push her over. She lands partially on Gale, who manages to free his hands from the sleeping bag tangle to grab her and tug her next to him. Seconds later there's another round of sleeping bags pounding on them and Madge buries her head in Gale's chest. His torso is vibrating with laughter and twisting as he tries to fend off the attacks with his one free hand. She finds herself laughing, too—the situation is just so absurd. The sleeping bags look like oversized, bright blue caterpillars and inflict about as much damage as a down comforter can. More than anything, it actually feels comforting to hear all the laughter and be curled up with Gale.

"What on _earth_ is going on in here?"

Madge pushes herself off from Gale's chest and sees his mother looking through the tent's door.

"We're playing Attack of the Worms, Mommy!" Posy shouts.

Madge scans the rest of the tent's interior and sees that everyone else has collapsed onto the messy piles of sleeping bags. It looks like a nest, and she's part of it.

"I see," Hazelle says good-naturedly. "Madge, are you all right? I don't understand why my children have these violent tendencies."

Madge nods hesitantly, trying to square the supposed "violent tendencies" with how safe she feels in the Nest of Hawthornes.

Vick, hair disheveled and sitting on Gale's leg, looks disapprovingly at Madge. "You're not very good at this game, Madge. You should fight back better."

Gale pushes himself into a sitting position and whacks Vick with a pillow. "Like this?" Vick topples over again.

Rory throws his pillow at Gale's head. "Exactly." Then he glances at Madge and says grudgingly, "She'll figure it out."

Madge feels Hazelle patting her shoulder. "I imagine she will." Madge looks up to smile gratefully at Hazelle and is rewarded with a wink. Next to her, she feels Gale pushing siblings and bedding off his body.

"Bedtime," he announces curtly as he climbs out of the door of the tent and helps Madge out as well. "Get these sleeping bags in order," he tells his brothers and Posy.

"Where are you going?" Posy demands.

"Madge and I lost the game, so we have to take Zipper for his nighttime walk," Gale says. He wraps his arm around Madge's waist and hooks his thumb into the waistband of her jeans just under her shirt. "Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas," he tells the others, "and then we'll see if you're tough enough to sleep outdoors."

Madge hears the sounds of fabric shuffling inside the tent, and Hazelle's gentle laughter as she walks back to the house. When Madge is reasonably sure nobody is watching, she leans into Gale and whispers, "I don't suppose Zipper wants to walk to a dark, secluded part of the district?" In other words, supplying an excuse for them to evade the watchful eyes of their families for just a little while. She suspects Gale has already caught whatever contagious inclinations she might have towards sneakiness.

Gale's breath is warm on her ear as he whispers back, "Definitely. That damn dog owes us."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everyone who's reviewed - I appreciate the feedback and hearing reactions.


	20. All About Rocks

**Chapter 20: All About Rocks**

Gale slips his backpack off his shoulders and jots a note on the map. The early morning sky has brightened enough to let him see the other side of the valley now. He snaps a few pictures with the digital camera, too. It should be easy to show that the official maps are wrong, but proving who was responsible for the alterations is another question. Hopefully Milo can help on that front.

He turns to watch Madge make her way down the rocky ridge behind him. Her blue parka and yellow hair stand out against the backdrop of faded grays and browns in the shadowy dawn light. The sun hasn't yet crested the slope they just descended. She stumbles but catches herself, and he momentarily regrets letting her come with him. After yesterday's events, she's probably even more tired than he is. They'd had to wake up well before sunrise, and he'd like to avoid her fainting or angrily throwing trail mix on this trip.

Madge smiles wearily when she joins him. He passes her his canteen, though she looks like she could actually use some coffee, and then moves behind her to lift her backpack off.

"Thanks," she says with a roll of her shoulders. "So where's that creek Milo told us to look for?"

"Should be close. It runs through this valley." He starts to knead her shoulder muscles and feels pleased when she sighs and leans back into him. "Look over there," he says quietly, pausing to point to the slope on the other side of the valley. "A thousand times better than anything on TV."

Even the highest quality screens couldn't capture the array of shifting colors appearing before them from the sun's first rays bringing life and light back to the valley. The shadow slides down the valley's wall like an invisible hand slowly lifting a curtain. And there's no way to record the stillness and tentative beginnings of the day in a forest other than to just soak it in.

They watch quietly for several minutes until Gale can't resist pushing Madge's hair aside and softly kissing her neck, which tastes salty with the effort of their scrambles up and down these ridges. She reaches up to run her hand along his jaw, leaving a tingling trail on his skin.

"I thought we were in a hurry this morning," she says lazily. He can hear her smile even if he can't see it.

"We are." He'd wanted to get to work as quickly as possible to expose the map scam, but now it's become urgent that they enjoy this moment. He moves his hands from her shoulders and links them around her waist. The sun has almost exposed the entire opposite side of the valley, the rocky walls now taking on an orange hue. The absence of any breeze or insect hums leave him with a sense that they're in a bubble, separated from the rest of the world.

"This is my favorite time of day," he whispers into the stillness. There's something about the hopefulness, the possibility the day will be a good one. He gives Madge an appreciative squeeze.

She pulls her hand back down and rests her arms on his, still gazing out over the valley. "I love anytime I can be with you."

Gale feels a strange blockage in his throat, like he can't swallow. He isn't sure if it's because he knows deep down he doesn't deserve her and it's only a matter of time before she realizes it herself, or if it's because she won't ever realize it and he doesn't deserve that, either. Whatever it is, he fights thinking about it by kissing her neck again. When she tilts her head to give him more access and makes a promising sound in her throat, he decides she is officially way more interesting than the sunrise. Madge must share the sentiment about him because within a few seconds she swivels to face him and has that look in her eyes like he's all that matters in the world.

Just like last night when they snuck away to "walk Zipper," it doesn't take long to get carried away. Only now they let themselves get carried further because they don't have to even think about anyone interrupting them, which Gale chalks up as yet another reason he prefers forests to cities.

He couldn't say for sure how or when they ended up on the ground because he doesn't even notice that's where they are until he realizes that instead of kissing him, Madge is laughing. Her body shakes beneath him and her lips are no longer doing what they're supposed to.

"_What?_" he asks, trying to fight the embarrassment of being laughed at. Yeah, he fumbled unsuccessfully with her bra clasp but that's because he's seriously out of practice and the right thing would be for her to help him instead of laugh at him—

"What are we doing, Gale? There's a rock jabbing into my back and _we're in the dirt_!" She twists to yank a jagged rock the size of her fist from under her and holds it up as proof.

He chucks the offending rock at the closest tree. "Better?"

With a roll of her eyes, Madge sits up and starts dusting herself off. Gale props himself up on his elbows to watch her. She's smiling and shaking her head at him so he doesn't think he offended her… And this forest topsoil is pure and natural, nothing like the coal dust-coated slag he used to have to contend with in 12… Maybe it's just that Madge doesn't consider the forest as romantic a setting as he does. To him, it's about freedom and instinct—and he has some very specific instincts he wants to act on when he's around Madge—but she seems to be concerned with shaking the debris out of her hair and flicking harmless little ants off her leg.

He worries momentarily that she thinks he doesn't want the very best for her, and realizes with a pang that she doesn't actually know that. He forgot to give her the present. Sitting up, he pulls out his wallet, plucks two faded pieces of paper from its folds, and holds them out to her.

"Madge. I meant to give these to you a while ago, but I forgot…"

It takes Madge a few seconds to figure out what she's looking at. When she does, she stares at him in shock. "Wolfgang Mercer? He's my favorite pianist! He was on all the radio broadcasts before the war! Gale, this come-back concert sold out within days of being announced. How did you get tickets?"

He smiles, encouraged by her reaction. "Someone at work said he was the best so I got the tickets when they went on sale… You were on that trip to 12. I knew I'd screwed up and wanted to make it up to you when you got back." But then she didn't want to talk to him and he couldn't blame her. He'd left the tickets in his wallet as a reminder of his newfound ability to cause his own misery.

Suddenly nervous, he reaches for her hand. "Let me take you on a date, Madge. _Your_ kind of date."

Madge starts to nod and a shy smile works its way onto her face. "I'd love that." She scoots over again and kisses him so slowly that he lets himself hope that she might be changing her policy against dirt and inconveniently located rocks. But then she starts laughing again.

"I can't believe we've never been on a date!"

All right, he's clearly not going to get anywhere with Madge or her bra. She's back to looking at the tickets and laughing lightly to herself so he stands up and helps her to her feet. He very considerately helps brush the dirt off the more interesting parts of her body, but she's focused on the tickets. She starts promising how much he'll love the concert, happily babbling about musical things he doesn't understand. He smiles as he returns the canteen and maps to his backpack so they can start hiking again. She's probably right that he'll enjoy the concert, if only because it will mean seeing her this bright and excited.

He's lifting Madge's backpack onto her shoulders again when he spots the unnatural whiteness in the distance, visible through the trees on the valley floor. He hadn't noticed it before in the low light of the morning, but the sun has risen higher now and the stark, artificialness of it stands out as something manmade amidst the muted browns and greens.

It looks like one of those trailers he's seen throughout the area. Like the trailer that disappeared when someone broke into his jeep on their last hike.

#

When they get closer, they confirm that it is indeed one of those trailers. A nondescript, boxy, white structure on wheels, situated in a clearing on the valley's floor near the creek they had been trying to find. They can't see or hear any people in the trailer, but that's no guarantee it's empty. After a whispered debate, they decide to get close enough to take pictures and then to hike back into communicuff reception range so Gale can call for backup from his squad. That way even if the trailer disappears once they leave—like last time—they'll have some information about it.

The cheerful gurgling of the creek in the clearing masks other sounds as they leave the safety of the trees and cautiously approach the trailer. Gale tries to be extra vigilant; he's got his gun, but it feels inadequate as protection. He can't stop thinking about getting Madge somewhere he knows for sure is safe. He has to settle for keeping her within reaching distance and constantly scanning their surroundings. And he could kick himself for worrying about bra clasps and dates when danger was so close by. As much as he likes it that they can work together again like they did back home in District 12, when they were in 12 they weren't as inclined to ignore everything other than one another.

From a safe distance, Gale tosses increasingly larger pebbles at the trailer to test if anyone is inside. But nobody comes out.

Madge snaps a few pictures and frowns. "It looks like every other trailer I've ever seen in other districts. Anyone could own it. We need to get closer to see if there's a license plate number. Or a serial number we could trace."

"I'll go." Gale reaches for the camera but Madge holds it away.

"We'll both go. I know what to look for. You can keep watch and… shoot things."

He hesitates, but all signs so far indicate that they should be able to approach and take a few pictures. He gestures for Madge to follow him. They walk in the tire tracks of whatever vehicle pulled the trailer to this location, and judging from the growth of the meadow grasses in the tracks and around the wheels of the trailer itself, it's been here for a week or two. He points out to Madge that it couldn't be the one they saw in the staging area just a few days ago.

Feeling more confident, he calls out. "Hello? Anyone there?"

Silence. He raps on the small door, but nobody answers. A small window to the right of the door lies above his eye level, so he lifts Madge by the waist so she can look.

"Nobody's inside… Gale, it looks like a mobile laboratory," she says incredulously. "There's complicated equipment and glassware everywhere." Bracing herself on his shoulders, she stretches upward for a better view. While she snaps pictures, he reminds himself to scan the clearing's perimeter for threats instead of thinking about how much he likes Madge wriggling against him like this.

"Okay, done," she announces. The second he sets her on the ground she bounds to the door of the trailer and tries to open it. Locked, but of course she wants to pick it.

"You're not breaking in, Madge," he warns. "You're in enough trouble."

"We have a good reason, though," she points out. "Whoever owns this trailer could have had something to do with sabotaging the jeep, which _you_ can legitimately investigate as an attack on military property, Gale, even though I'm suspended."

"Fine. If it's my investigation, then I say we're leaving and I'll send an armed team back here." He crosses his arms to convey the finality of his decision, annoyed that Madge looks frustrated with him. Apparently he needs to point out the obvious to her: "We have one gun, nobody except Milo knows we're here, and this area is dangerous. You saw what happened to the jeep, and don't forget that bomb on the road to District 3 earlier this summer. We'll message my commander when we're in range. Let's go."

He turns and walks back across the clearing toward their backpacks, biting back the urge to remind her that _she_ got them into that mess at the staging area. _She_ also got them caught in the Justice Building in District 12 when she wanted to steal all that medicine. Both times it was up to _him_ to get them out of the messes. Although, they'd pretty much gotten away with stealing that medicine and it helped a lot of people in District 12 that awful winter… And as frustrating as it had been to hike 20 miles back to civilization after scumbags broke into the jeep, it did mark the longest stretch of time he'd ever spent with her and got them talking about important things again. He smiles faintly as he remembers that kissing her to fool the guards in the Justice Building was the first time they'd kissed. He wonders if she'll blush when he reminds her…

"Gale! Come look at this."

He turns around and sees that rather than following him, Madge wandered in the opposite direction. Typical. She's bending over and looking at something on the ground in the clearing. When he gets close enough, he sees that she discovered a pool of thick sludge, dark and tinged with ghastly bright yellows. The grass surrounding the pool is brown, either dead or dying.

Gale frowns and crouches to get a better look at the puddle. "It looks like what Zipper stepped in the first time I took him into the mountains. I thought that stuff was acid runoff from an abandoned mine… But maybe it's something else."

"They're probably dumping chemicals from their laboratory in this field," Madge says in a disapproving tone. She's already snapping pictures of it.

Gale picks up a stick and pokes it in the sludge, irritated again that people do stuff like this. The pool is near the creek, too. Why are so many people determined to be assholes?

As he's getting annoyed, he senses other eyes on them. It's that old hunting sensation. Standing quickly, he scans the periphery of the clearing. He spots the two figures at the same time that they shout out.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Two dark-haired men in brown jumpsuits emerge from the trees on the opposite side of the clearing that he and Madge had approached from. The sun glints off silver canisters several feet long they're both carrying.

And that's not all they're carrying: the taller man grips a pistol, aimed at them.

Gale trains his own gun on them. "Stop your approach," he orders. He steps around Madge to block her and runs through his mental catalog of what type of weapon those long silver things could be. A type of bomb he hasn't encountered before? "Weapons on the ground!" he shouts.

The men stop advancing, but the man holding the gun doesn't lower it. His black hair is specked with gray, marking him as older than the other guy, who Gale estimates to be only a few years older than himself. The younger one keeps glancing deferentially at the older one, who calls across the clearing, "Who are you?"

Grateful he wore his uniform, Gale calls back, "This is a military investigation. We don't want any trouble, so get those weapons down _now_."

The older man swallows and glances suspiciously at Madge. "It doesn't look like a military investigation," he says. "Your partner isn't in uniform." He squints as he looks more closely at Gale. "And you're just that kid with the new government… You're not military." He shakes his head. "Something's not right."

Gale clenches his teeth. So they know who he is but not in the right way. What a waste. He tersely recites: "Gale Hawthorne, Lieutenant, Squad 1035, New Republic Army. On temporary detail to the New Republic Reconstruction Committee by personal request of President Paylor. _Now get your goddamn weapons on the ground_."

Mr. Skeptical still hesitates and the next thing Gale registers is Madge inching up to him. She reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his communicuff.

Before he realizes what her plan is, she holds the communicuff aloft so the two men can see it. "If I press this button the rest of the good lieutenant's squad will be crawling all over this valley in minutes. But I don't think you want this to be an emergency anymore than we do."

"There's no reception out here," the younger man says. He pushes his glasses more securely onto the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminds Gale of Beetee, who has the same build and often employed the same practical tone when pointing out the technical limitations of Gale's ideas in the weapons lab. But thinking of Beetee gives Gale an inspiration.

"We put transmission boosters on that ridge," he lies, jerking his head in the direction he and Madge had come from. "We always signal boost in this area—too many idiots running around with guns. And if you really want to elevate this, keep pissing me off."

After another brief hesitation, the older guy crouches to set his gun on the ground, and lays the silver canister down besides it. The younger one sets his canister down too and both men hold their hands out to show that they're empty. "We aren't doing anything wrong," the older one says slowly. "We need to be able to defend ourselves. This area's a free-for-all. One of our trucks was bombed last month."

"Who are you?" Gale demands.

"We're with an outfit in District 3 called Rare Earth Metals. Just prospecting for parcels to bid on. Perfectly legitimate."

The men do have the dark-haired, spindly District 3 look. No wonder the younger one reminded him of Beetee. They could easily be Beetee's brother and nephew, though Gale knows Beetee didn't have any living relatives. He feels Madge lean in to whisper, "Rare Earth Metals is the name of the company that owns that excavator we found on the hike last week. I ran the serial number. Get their identification papers to confirm."

"I.D.," Gale calls to the men. They toss their wallets over and Madge darts out to retrieve them. She pulls out their citizen identity cards and some business cards. With a glance, Gale takes in the District 3 addresses and business cards decorated with a big red logo "R.E.M." Looking more closely at their jumpsuits, he sees the same letters on the sleeves.

"What's this all about?" Beetee's Would-be Brother asks.

"We're looking into security threats," Gale says. "Is that your trailer?"

Beetee's Nephew nods and adjusts his glasses again. "We were bringing back rock samples—" he gestures to the canisters, "to test in the lab."

"What are you testing for?" Madge asks conversationally.

To Gale's surprise, the men seem happy to talk about their activities. Maybe droning on about science stuff is another District 3 trait they share with Beetee. They describe how they use the lab to detect the types of metals they're prospecting for, which are usually only found in small quantities so they have to take samples of the earth and run several tests with chemicals to determine if the sample contains the right type of metal. The metals they need are used in electronics manufacturing, which does make sense if they're with a company out of District 3.

Madge murmurs to Gale that their explanation matches what she learned researching their company before being suspended. "I want to look inside the trailer."

Of course she does. He calls over to the men, "Mind if we take a look inside that trailer?"

The two men exchange a glance and then the Nephew tosses over a key. Gale eyes them suspiciously—are they letting Madge look around because they have nothing to hide? Because she and Gale wouldn't understand what they find anyway? Madge grabs the key from the grass and smirks at Gale before disappearing into the trailer.

Gale returns his attention to the two men in the field, still unwilling to lower his weapon. "You mentioned a bomb," he prompts. "What happened?"

The men describe one of their trucks being hit around the same time Dusty was called to deal with the explosion on the road between Districts 2 and 3. He'd bet anything it was the same incident. The official explanation was that it was a land mine left by retreating Peacekeepers, but these guys don't seem to buy that. It wrecked one of their mobile labs, like the trailer Madge is exploring, and set them back a few weeks. They seem to suspect one of their prospecting rivals was responsible.

"There are so many high value minerals in this area, everyone wants to put in bids here," the Nephew says sullenly.

Gale quizzes them on how many trailers they have and their whereabouts. Just this one, which they say has been in this location for a couple of weeks and which Gale's observations of the nearby plant growth confirm. They say their rivals also have these same types of mobile labs, and that they're not the only prospectors who use chemical tests to confirm the presence of the minerals they're looking for.

Soon Madge reappears in the trailer's doorway, holding a spiral-bound notebook. Gale is relieved to see she didn't fall into a vat of acid or whatever other laboratory hazards might be in that trailer. He tries to catch her eye, but she's already asking the two men questions.

"Can your equipment detect uranium?"

The older one shifts uneasily and eyes Madge as she marks a page in the notebook with her finger. Gale feels a flare of pride that she must have found something in that notebook that they won't be able to deny. And then panic overtakes the pride as he realizes how serious her question is. Uranium is what makes nuclear weapons _nuclear_ weapons. Also known as the type of weapons not even _Snow and Coin_ considered using. He grips his gun more tightly, and wills Madge to move back closer to him.

"It can," the man says evasively. "But we aren't looking for it."

"Have you found any uranium out here?" she presses.

"We don't need it."

"But do you _encounter_ it?"

"Obviously we do," he says impatiently. "It's associated with the rare earth metals in the rock formations in this region. Processing for one leaves the other as a by-product."

"Is that what that yellow pool of crud is?" Gale asks, pointing to the pool he and Madge had been looking at earlier. "_Uranium_?"

"It's… whatever we don't need after we run our tests."

Gale glares at the men. "So you just pour it out wherever you feel like. Isn't that stuff radioactive?"

"Well, those are very small quantities," the younger man jumps in huffily. "Really, it's no worse than the acid runoff from old mines or natural rock erosion."

Wincing slightly at his own past justification for weapons development being thrown back at him, Gale can't bring himself to respond to the faultiness of that reasoning. Instead he summarizes what the men have said. "So your competitors could be interested in the same land as you… but they could want the uranium, not the rare earth whatevers."

"That's what we think is happening," the older man says testily. "It's why we need to be armed."

Madge walks over from the trailer to stand next to Gale and focuses on the two men. "Uranium mining is illegal by anyone other than the government because of weapons and national security concerns." She sounds authoritative, and eerily like her father. "Not reporting the discovery of a controlled element is… serious. Even in small quantities like you're talking about, but more so because you're not disposing of it properly." She turns toward Gale. "Lieutenant Hawthorne, doesn't the military have the final say over all weapons issues?"

Gale nods, taking his cue from her. That sounds right and he trusts that Madge knows what she's talking about. "We do. And we don't appreciate people hiding weapons materials."

"Maybe," Madge says, pausing for emphasis as she looks at the two men again, "the military would be more understanding about your oversight in not reporting this if it was an honest mistake and you could help us figure out who's setting off bombs in this region."

"The more specific you can be, the better," Gale adds, finally lowering his gun.

#

Madge drives them back to her aunt and uncle's house so Gale can brief his commanding officers via communicuff as soon as they're back in transmission range. The men with the trailer hadn't had any means of communication, so she and Gale couldn't do anything other than take their statements and some photographs. Madge had been relieved that they didn't seem to be aware of any of the recent unflattering media coverage about her, and that they wouldn't have the opportunity to talk to anyone else before the soldiers arrive. The shadowy connections between a lot of these companies—rivals one day, partners the next—leaves her uneasy.

"I need to get to work and stop that land proposal," Gale tells Madge as he presses buttons on the tiny keypad. "And to make sure people know they can't get ahead by cheating and hiding information. If some piece of land is worth more, pay more for it. People like Douglas and Simon's shitty brother shouldn't be skewing the information; that's not fair to people like those guys today who've been working their asses off and getting bombed for just trying to make a living."

Madge smiles at how Gale seems to be personally offended. "I'm with you one hundred percent, Gale."

He shifts his attention back to his communicuff and mutters something she can't quite hear.

"What was that?" she asks.

"_You should be_," he repeats. "With me. One hundred percent."

She turns back to the road, not entirely sure what he means. "I am…"

"No, you live in the Capitol. I want you _with me_ one hundred percent."

"But you're still enlisted," she says. Before she can point out that he could be sent anywhere at any time or ask what "with him 100%" means (of the time?, in principle?, not to date other people?, move to District 2?), she turns the corner onto her aunt and uncle's street and notices that their car is still out front. That's odd—they should have left for work by now. Another unfamiliar vehicle is parked in front of the house as well. She fights the rising panic that the tabloids finally located her.

Gale sits up straighter in his seat. "Those are government plates," he says. Before Madge finishes parking, he pushes open the car door and marches up to the house. Madge shuts his door and hurriedly trails him. She bursts into the entryway in time to hear Gale demanding information.

"Who are you people?" He looks at a man and woman sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room. Madge has never seen them before, though her stomach drops as she recognizes the Covert Intelligence insignia on the lapels of their black, three-piece suits. They have the unnerving, professional just-doing-our-job vibe so common among former Peacekeepers. Only the color of their attire is wrong. She glances nervously at Perri, who is standing tight-lipped and with crossed arms in the entryway. The intruders rise in unison from their seats on the couch, looking past Gale to Madge.

"Miss Undersee," the woman says in a formal tone. "Your disciplinary hearing will convene this afternoon at C.I. Headquarters. We are to escort you to ensure your attendance. And we're late." While she speaks, her partner watches Gale closely and not so subtly unbuttons his jacket so his gun holster is visible.

Gale moves in front of Madge. "She's not going anywhere," he snaps. Madge sees his hand moving toward his own holster and smoothly reaches for his arm. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring squeeze before he can make any overtly threatening gestures.

"I don't understand the need for an escort," she says, her voice shaking despite her efforts to appear calm. Maybe this is a misunderstanding. "We weren't going to be gone long, and I would have come in whenever I got back…"

Perri lets out an exaggerated sigh, no doubt for the benefit of the escorts. "Believe me, Madge, they have been informed _at length_ about the needlessness of their trip. I believe this overreaction is due to your office being unable to reach you by phone this morning, in combination with being unable to locate your friend Simon at all."

"Miss Undersee," the woman escort takes a step forward, "if you have any knowledge of Mr. Barker's whereabouts—"

"I don't," Madge says automatically. It's true, but she wouldn't tell them even if it weren't.

She feels Gale shift as his neck twists and he looks around the room. "Perri," he says in a low tone, "where is my family?"

Perri's expression softens slightly as she looks at Gale. "They got restless and took Zipper to the creek in the town center. Dusty is at work. I've been waiting with our visitors."

Madge takes advantage of Gale's distracted relief to ask Perri, "What… happens at a disciplinary hearing?"

Perri shoots laser beams of disapproval at the escorts as she answers. "What an extremely pertinent question, Madge. Unfortunately, these individuals have refused to answer it. And I certainly don't know, since the proceedings are closed to the public."

The escorts both ignore Perri's gripe, giving Madge a sense of what the morning was probably like as they all waited for Madge and Gale to return. They'd never be able to hold their own in a debate with Perri; ignoring her would have been the only option. The man looks at Madge and speaks in the same even tone the woman had employed earlier. "Miss Undersee, we're severely behind schedule. If you would like to change into more formal clothes, we can give you a few minutes."

"She's not changing clothes because she's not going anywhere," Gale spits out like it's the most obvious thing ever and these people are idiots for not realizing it. He reaches for one of her hands and intertwines their fingers like he's handcuffing her to himself. "She's definitely not going to some bogus hearing."

The escorts look mildly annoyed, and just when the man opens his mouth to say something to Gale, Perri jumps in first.

"Madge, go change. And pack an overnight bag." Before Gale can react she adds, "Gale, kitchen. Now."

Gale doesn't loosen his grip on Madge until the escorts both sit back on the couch again to signify that the standoff has been defused. He shoots them a warning glare that they don't notice and then reluctantly follows Perri into the kitchen.

Madge warily passes the escorts, busy checking messages on their communicuffs, and retreats to her bedroom. Is Perri really going to let her be subjected to a secret trial? She promised she wouldn't let anything happen to Madge… Dismally, Madge thinks maybe Perri doesn't have as much influence as she wishes she did…

Madge changes into one of her skirt suits and tries to make her hair look like she hasn't been hiking all morning, but it's pointless. She'll probably be convicted of Bad Hair on top of whatever else she's facing. Then she throws a few things into her overnight bag and thinks about how she hasn't slept in the same place two nights in a row in the last half-week… Here, a mountain, Gale's bed, Simon's couch, here again. And now it looks like she's going back to the Capitol—to what, a jail cell? How can she pack for jail?

There's a knock. "Madge."

Relieved to hear Gale's voice, she flings open the door and doesn't mind when he wrinkles her suit with his crushing hug. He speaks fast and low into her hair and it takes all her concentration to focus on his words rather than on how much she wants to rewind time to when they were kissing in the forest just a few hours ago. She'd take an uncomfortable rock in her back over this uncertainty in a second.

"I can't believe I'm letting you leave," Gale's words tumble out. "Perri says you have to go, but she's going with you and has a plan…" He takes a deep breath, almost inhaling her. "I'm going to track down Milo and talk to my commanding officers and find out what I can to help you and—"

"Call Simon, Gale," Madge interrupts. She breaks away from him to write Simon's phone number down. "I haven't been able to get in touch with him, but Perri might be able to help him too."

Gale stares at the scrap of paper like it's diseased. "Did it occur to you he's not calling you back because he's turned on you?"

"There's nothing to turn on me _about_," Madge says.

"Oh yeah? How about his piece of crap brother?"

Perri appears in the doorway before Madge can respond again. "Ready, Madge?"

"No," Madge says scornfully. Of course she's not ready. She has no idea what she's facing. "Perri, can they really give me such short notice for this kind of thing?"

"No. But our friends in the living room aren't the right audience for that particular protest. They are _extremely_ well-informed on my views on this matter and have not been convinced." She reaches to pick up Madge's bag and says frankly, "They're armed and they're under orders—however ill-advised—to escort you to this hearing."

"It's not fair," Madge fumes.

"It's also not happening the way they expect," Perri says calmly as she turns to leave. Madge looks at Gale and then they follow her to the front yard where Perri coolly informs the escorts, "My niece and I will be driving in our own vehicle. Feel free to escort us from a safe distance behind." When they protest, she holds up her hand to silence them. "You are escorting us, as obligated. I am a well-known public figure serving the same government you serve in a position of public trust. My niece and I pose no conceivable flight risks. Shoot us off the road if at any point you disagree."

With that she tosses the bags into the back of the car and opens the driver's door. "Gale, you have the phone numbers?" He nods. "Say good-bye to Madge."

Madge watches the escort soldiers confer with each other and then trudge toward their own vehicle. Gale looks just as surprised as she is. "I wasn't sure that would work," he says quietly. Seconds later he pulls her into a hug. "Perri will explain more in the car," he whispers. Then he kisses her and squeezes her again. "I'll talk to you soon."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Happy Religious Holiday Weekend! And welcome to the new readers! Please take a moment to review and let me know what you thought. I'm writing this story partly because I love these characters so much and partly to learn more about writing, so I'm interested in hearing what people like and don't like and what I could do better. I know there was a lot going on in this chapter, and some of it is intentionally not being explained yet, but I'd still appreciate hearing if there was anything especially confusing. Also, I've gotten off my ideal updating scheduling (due to my life totally sucking; I'll spare you the details) and I'm curious who's still reading this story. And also out of curiosity – do people have preferences on updating frequency/chapter length? This chapter was longer than I generally like and I wish I could have updated sooner than this, but the Suckiness made that impossible. Still, it would help to know for the future. Thanks!


	21. Hear This

**Author's Note:** I'm back! I'm sorry about the long wait since the last chapter—I've been struggling with this story. I wrote out everything to the end to be sure I wasn't forgetting anything… and then re-wrote it all several times. I revise heavily as it is, but have reached a disturbing new level of writing and re-writing. :( Lesson: endings are exponentially more difficult (for me at least) than I understood and apparently I'm not a very efficient writer. I think I have it mostly sorted out now, which is another reason for the delay—the remaining chapters go together and I wanted to post them without a gap as long as this one ended up being. Hopefully some of you out there are still reading.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. :) Special thanks to Miss Scarlett 05 for helpful ideas on improving this chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21: Hear This<strong>

Even before reaching the driveway, Gale can see the broadcast tower jutting out of the turquoise van's roof like a spiked horn. Those tabloid jerks are still staking out his apartment. He clenches his jaw and momentarily considers parking down the block and cutting back on foot to slip past them. Then he comes to his senses. He doesn't have time for this crap and he shouldn't be harassed getting to his own damn house. Spinning the steering wheel and jabbing the gas pedal, he peels into the lot and parks perpendicularly across three spots.

By the time he exits the jeep and slams the door shut, the broadcast van's inhabitants have spilled into the parking lot, hastily switching on their hand-held microphones and connecting electrical cords. They're a disorganized mass of neon and primary colors, hair and clothing marking them as old-time Capitol purists.

"Get out of here," he orders as he walks over. He points toward the driveway in case they're too stupid to understand which direction is _away_.

"Lieutenant Hawthorne," one of the creeps says, completely ignoring Gale's helpful instruction, "is it true you skipped work so you could confront the blonde spy about how she was two-timing you?"

"You want to talk about legitimate news, find me at work." It's safer for them; he has to leave his weapon at the security gate. "Otherwise, get out of my sight."

"We can be here," an idiot who dyed his beard blue pipes up. "You don't own this parking lot. And the people have a right to know if you knocked up the blonde spy. Is the Mockingjay jealous?"

Well, he gave them a chance. He pulls out his gun and aims it at the van's broadcast tower.

The bullet hits the small transmitter dish with an angry ping. A tidy hole mars the transmitter's surface, triggering a chorus of surprised gasps to ripple through the crowd.

Gale lowers his gun but doesn't put it away, and gazes at the jerks. "Looks like you'd better get that fixed."

Bluebeard stares at him, eyes wide. "You… can't do that!"

Gale doesn't bother pointing out that he already did. At least they can't transmit footage anymore, and without a transmitter they'll leave soon. He'd been approaching a personal record for length of time avoiding run-ins with these types, but this was worth it. He'll deal with the fallout from wrecking their equipment later.

Without another word, he turns and walks across the parking lot to the stairwell. Anything he says would supply more material for them to warp. And how on earth could he have gotten Madge pregnant when he can't even get her bra off? Not that anybody needs to know that.

On the second floor, he rounds the corner and spots his dirtbag neighbor standing in the walkway peering over the balcony into the parking lot below. The guy looks as dumpy as ever in his too-small exercise shorts and a faded pink T-shirt stretched over his protruding gut. Apparently the jerk's newfound fame as a tabloid informant hasn't inspired him to bother brushing his hair or shaving.

"Did you hear a gunshot?" Pig Man asks while turning in Gale's direction. His piggy, squinty eyes widen when he realizes Gale is the person he's talking to. When he spots the gun still in Gale's hand, he takes a hesitant step back toward his door but isn't fast enough to avoid Gale's fist connecting with his jowls.

The force of the punch sends him slumping against the wall of the walkway. He clutches his jaw, shrinking back so pitifully Gale can't sock him in the gut the way he really, really wants to. He settles for pinning the guy to the wall. Channeling all his anger about the lies this jerk dreamed up about Madge, he growls his warning.

"She's my _girlfriend_, jackass, and don't you _ever_ say anything about her to those vultures or anyone else ever again. Don't talk to her, don't look at her, don't even _think_ about her. Understand?"

Wisely, the guy doesn't speak. He nods eagerly and looks hopeful that a sore jaw is all he'll have to endure. Gale keeps the pressure on the guy's collarbone as he clicks the safety on his gun and holsters it.

"Don't talk to me or my family, either. Or say anything about us. I'd gladly beat the shit out of you, but we'll both be better off if you keep your foul mouth closed. Got it?"

When the neighbor nods again, Gale releases him and casts one more threatening look in his direction as the guy scrambles for the safety of his pigpen of an apartment. Gale watches the door shut and then continues to his own apartment. He needs to move. Besides hating his apartment and that lowlife next door, it's not smart to live so close to an enemy.

Inside, he tries to call Simon again. No answer. Again. Gale slams the phone down and wonders what else he could do to make sure Simon and his scummy brother can't get Madge in trouble. Infuriatingly, nothing comes to mind that he isn't already doing.

Next, he hurriedly shaves and changes into a clean uniform for the briefing with his commanding officers. He'll just barely have time to swing by Milo's office first. Thankfully his family is still sequestered from the tabloids at Madge's aunt and uncle's house.

The phone rings as he's walking out the door. He picks up in case it's Commander Riggs. But instead of Riggs' deep, authoritative voice he hears Simon, angry and accusatory.

"What the hell is going on up there? I turn off my mobile phone for one day and everything falls apart? Where's Madge? Is she at that stupid hearing already?"

Apparently Simon listened to his messages. About time. "She's on her way now. Two goons from your office dragged her off, thanks to your little vanishing act. Where are _you?_"

"District 3," Simon says tersely. "I can't get back until tomorrow for my own hearing, which is going to piss them off." He swears and then takes a long, steadying breath. "All right. Here's what we're going to do to help Madge. I'm going to make some calls to try to—"

"Why are you in 3?" Gale interrupts.

"Just getting away for a while. Now, did the people who picked up Madge say who exactly sent them?"

"No." And Gale thinks it's suspicious that Simon is trying to steer the conversation away from his disappearance. "Why District 3?" It's a dump: endless factories and polluted brown air that gets trapped in a valley. "Why not somewhere like 4?"

"What do you care?" Simon snaps. "Maybe I was _trying_ to have a life. But between my brother, my mother, Madge, and my brother again—and now this ridiculous hearing!—that's apparently too much to ask."

Gale bristles at Madge being lumped into any category with Simon's sleazy brother. "What do you mean about Madge _and your brother_?"

Simon sighs, and after a few seconds he says in a calmer tone, "I didn't mean they were the _same_… I know it's not her fault. She's had a rough time, with the nightmares and you being such an asshole… I wasn't about to kick her off my couch, and neither of us could have dreamed up my brother causing all this trouble for us. Forget I said that."

Gale thinks Simon's brother is the one who should be hauled off to a secret trial or disciplinary hearing or whatever they're calling it. Not Madge. But he did notice Simon seemed to acknowledge his brother as the source of the problems… Too late he realizes Simon started talking again and that he missed some of it.

"… so if I call the Under Secretary—he likes us and is fair—maybe he could get Madge's hearing delayed. A little extra time would help, I could look into some things..." He sounds worried but then his tone shifts to angry again. "They shouldn't have sprung this on her! The whole thing could be a trap so they can fire her, or pin things on her she had nothing to do with—"

"We're on it," Gale cuts in. He's done his share of ranting about this hearing and Simon rehashing his same concerns isn't helping. "Madge's aunt and I are already screwing with their plans. Perri went with her."

"She did?" Simon pauses for a moment and then almost sounds like himself again when he says, "Why didn't you say so before?"

#

Madge trails a few steps behind Perri as they climb the grand stairs to the entrance of the marble, pillared building just a few blocks off the Capitol's City Center. She's never been in this building before and the unfamiliarity of the setting adds to the anxious fluttery feeling in her stomach. At the top of the stairs, those awful escorts hold open the heavy wooden doors for Madge and Perri to enter. They signal the guards at the security desk and then disappear, no doubt glad to be done with this assignment. The escorts' detached professionalism escalated into irritation during the drive into the Capitol. They hadn't appreciated Perri's slow driving speed or the number of rest breaks she'd taken to make phone calls, stretch, buy snacks, check the car's engine… Perri had been trying to give Gale more time.

Inside the grand foyer of the building, Madge catches up to Perri, who paused before reaching the security desk to scan their surroundings. It's near the end of the day, with more people exiting the building than entering, and a handful of visitors wait on the public benches this side of the security gate. One woman on the nearest bench stands and walks toward Madge and Perri. She's armed with a voice recorder and a hungry gleam in her eye, and her wavy red hair is as striking as Madge remembers from their previous encounter: last week at the grocery store when Madge and Gale had emerged from the forest after their hike.

Madge tugs gently on Perri's sleeve and whispers, "Reporter. She saw me and Gale in Ponderosa Village on Saturday."

Perri smiles as the reporter approaches. "Perfect." But then, instead of waiting to talk to the reporter, Perri abruptly swivels and crosses to the security desk where she loudly announces, "Margaret Undersee and Perri Whistler, here for the Undersee disciplinary hearing."

The bearded guard frowns and shuffles through papers. "I don't see anything about anybody named Whistler. Who are you?"

While Perri explains that their escorts had been informed in advance that Perri would accompany Madge, the reporter makes her move.

"Margaret Undersee?"

Madge nods.

"Darcy Scott, Free Press."

"I remember." She particularly remembers being nervous about encountering a reporter and simultaneously wondering if Gale thought the girl was pretty. She's their age, and stands out as the only reporter Madge has ever heard Gale say anything nice about.

Darcy grins. "I got a call from an _anonymous_ source that I should be here." She winks when she says anonymous, which Madge takes as confirmation that Gale made the call. Then the reporter holds out a voice recorder toward Madge. "Is this disciplinary hearing associated with the recent stories about the new government spying on citizens and subjecting them to secret trials?"

Madge doesn't know what she is and isn't allowed to say to reporters, and doesn't even know what she would say if she knew she wouldn't get in more trouble. Not knowing what this hearing might involve is a major source of her anxiety. Will it be a formal trial like Katniss had gone through, only private? The idea of going to jail seems absurd—Madge didn't _kill_ anyone!—but everything has been so unsettled since the war ended. Everyone seemed to agree that executing people for stealing was too harsh a punishment, but many former Capitol officials were jailed for much lesser crimes than theft. Madge knows because she helped provide the evidence that put them away. But what else might her office have used her evidence for, and what if they try to blame her for things she doesn't even know about? The fact that escorts had been enlisted to bring her to the hearing didn't exactly inspire confidence. Perri hadn't known what to expect either, and explained that as much as she hated the idea of private tribunals, anything involving the government's ongoing criminal investigations _should_ be closed to the public. They couldn't risk tipping off the criminals, and Madge defending herself would involve just that. Madge glances nervously at Perri to see if she knows what Madge should say to the reporter.

"My niece is not permitted to speak to the press about these matters," Perri says. Then she sticks out her hand. "Perri Whistler."

Darcy shakes Perri's hand, but before she can ask another question, a guard appears at her side.

"Miss, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

Frowning, Darcy glances around the lobby. "Everything on this side of the security gate is public. Nobody else has to leave." She gestures to the other people, who are showing more interest in what's happening at the desk. When the guard doesn't respond, Darcy turns to Madge. "Are _you_ being subjected to a secret trial?"

Perri answers again. "My niece has been summoned to a proceeding that is understandably closed to the public, due to the sensitive nature of the topics to be addressed. Although, I don't see at this point how we could call it a secret that the proceeding is _occurring_, do you?" She raises her eyebrows, which makes Darcy grin again.

The guard behind the desk stands up from his seat. "Ms. Whistler, I checked with the people upstairs. You'll have to wait here. Only Ms. Undersee has clearance to enter."

Perri turns away from Darcy back to the security desk. "Ms. Undersee goes nowhere without me. Kindly inform whoever is upstairs that I would be happy to discuss this matter face to face. Until then, we'll wait in the lobby."

She walks away from the desk a few steps and smiles again at Darcy. "We appear to have some time available."

A few other people from the benches walk over to see what the commotion is, forming a semi-circle around Perri, Madge, and the reporter. Apparently energized by the audience, Darcy asks with fresh confidence, "Committee Member Whistler, are you accompanying your niece today because the Reconstruction Committee is concerned about the subject matter of her hearing? Or are you with her as a family member?"

"Both. I want assurances that our citizens are being treated fairly, and I have a particular interest in this citizen. As you may be aware, my niece's parents—my brother and his wife—were murdered along with the rest of their district in the Massacre of District 12. I feel responsible for my niece's well-being, both as the only family she has left and as a steward of our fledging country. Madge worked tirelessly in support of the new government's ideals both during and after the war, and she is entitled to the benefit of those new ideals through a fair proceeding just as everyone else is."

"But haven't there been reports that she spies on law-abiding citizens and businesses?"

Perri smiles again. "I can't comment on unsubstantiated _reports_. I deal with facts and truth, not speculation and ill-informed opinions. But my niece and I are confident that today's proceeding will be based on facts, not rumors."

Madge hears a familiar clicking sound behind the security gate. Swiveling, she tenses at the sight of Fiona sweeping down the hallway at her typical _I've-got-more-important-places-to-be_ pace. Fiona stops at the security gate and says a few words to the guard. Seconds later, he calls for Madge and Perri to enter.

"You'll have to excuse us," Perri tells Darcy. "But let's talk more soon. The Reconstruction Committee is very interested in many of these issues—the so-called secret trials and appropriate levels of surveillance of citizens and under what circumstances."

Out of the corner of her eye, Madge sees Darcy nod eagerly. Madge focuses on Fiona in search of clues as to whether her boss being involved in this hearing is a good or a bad sign. Fiona is usually difficult to read, though after the tabloid story broke she had been visibly upset enough with Madge and Simon to suspend them. Is she angry now that Perri held an impromptu interview in the lobby? At a minimum she must be annoyed that Madge was late to the hearing. Making the department look bad and interfering with efficiency are two of the worst offenses to a machine like Fiona. But Madge can't get a sense of her mood—Fiona doesn't say anything until Perri and Madge have passed through the security gate. She waits for them with her arms crossed and a steely expression on her face, like usual.

"Committee Member Whistler. It's been a long time."

Perri says simply, "It has. You've certainly made yourself valuable, Fiona."

Fiona gazes at Perri for a few seconds, sizing her up. Madge recognizes the move as something her father used to do when he was trying to figure somebody out and hadn't yet decided on his approach for dealing with them. Perri had said she and Fiona worked together "ages ago" before Perri got out of working for the Capitol. When Madge had asked if they'd been friends, Perri had grimaced and said people like Fiona don't have friends. Madge bites her lip while she waits for Fiona to speak.

"Margaret's hearing is confidential, Perri. However, you may wait in the secured area waiting room." In other words, away from reporters.

Perri opens her briefcase and hands Fiona a folder. "Your office should have this paperwork already. I took the confidentiality oath months ago when Madge first accepted the position in your department, so my presence should have no bearing on confidentiality. Lieutenant Gale Hawthorne has taken the oath as well. I suggest you not waste time in the hearing with any allegations that Madge breached confidentiality by speaking to either of us."

Madge clutches her purse more tightly, alarmed that Perri went on the offensive so quickly by dictating what should happen during the hearing.

Fiona studies the papers for a few seconds and flips them over as if looking for instructions on this strange situation: pushy, media-savvy aunts interfering with disciplinary hearings.

Perri clears her throat and waits for Fiona to look up again. "To be perfectly frank, I question the validity of this proceeding due to its opaqueness and the mishandling of how Madge was summoned here. My first instinct was to resist it entirely. I trust you're aware that my remarks in the lobby could have taken a _very_ different tenor." Madge isn't used to seeing her aunt throwing around her weight as a public figure, but the threat is implied: having a former-judge-turned-rebel openly attacking the government's handling of the accusations against Madge would at the very least ensure the scandal stays in the news. "However," Perri continues, "I am willing to allow Madge to participate on the condition that I accompany her." Perri lowers her voice and says in a more conciliatory tone, "I believe you have a unique opportunity here to rebuild public confidence in your department."

Fiona flips through the papers for a few more seconds before abruptly snapping the folder shut and looking back at Perri. "This paperwork appears to be in order. Come along."

#

Madge's metal chair wobbles whenever she shifts position, clicking loudly against the linoleum floor and giving away to everyone else how nervous and fidgety she is. She tries to concentrate on holding still while the others get situated.

She and Perri sit on one side of an oversized rectangular table in a windowless room illuminated by unforgiving fluorescent lights. The accompanying low hum from the lights sounds ominous. On the other side of the table sit Fiona and Agent Andy Amos, who replaced Simon as office supervisor during Simon's suspension and had been given the investigation into Edwin after Madge and Simon were forbidden from working on it. Madge isn't surprised to see him; he's the world's biggest suck-up and probably gladly volunteered to help Fiona skewer Madge. At the head of the table looms a dark haired, dark skinned man Madge doesn't recognize. He wears a dark grey suit typical of most staff in the new government, but has the hard-worn look of a former district resident. The scars on his face and his no-nonsense expression suggest he was a rebel soldier. He hasn't said anything yet, but after Fiona held a whispered conference with him about Perri's participation in the hearing he did give an approving nod and gestured for Perri and Madge to take seats.

Fiona reaches to the middle of he table to switch on the recording machine. Perri reaches into her purse, pulls out one of Madge's recording devices, and sets it on the table as well. "You won't mind if I make my own recording as a check on accuracy."

Fiona blinks, almost betraying surprise, and then glances at the man at the head of the table. He sits forward in his chair and speaks.

"It's fine for your own records, though I'll remind you that these proceedings are confidential." He has a gravelly voice and an accent that marks him as from a district rather than the Capitol. He waits until both recording devices are running before speaking again.

"We convene today's disciplinary hearing regarding the actions of Field Agent Margaret Undersee, currently suspended from the Covert Intelligence Department. The department head, Ms. Fiona Shaw, has recommended that Agent Undersee be fired and prosecuted in the Confidential Court of National Security and Intelligence."

Madge feels a chill prickle her spine. Fiona wants to fire her and put her through a secret trial. This is Madge's reward for bringing scandal and attention to a department that values secrecy.

"Excuse me," Perri interrupts. "_Who are you_?"

"Liaison for the Confidential Court. I'm sitting in today to decide if there are grounds to pursue this case in our Court. Ms. Shaw is the final say on Agent Undersee's continued employment within her department, but I decide which cases go forward beyond the employee's termination."

Madge is too paralyzed to speak. He speaks so casually about her fate! She glances at Perri. Her aunt grips the folder in her hands so tightly the cardboard bends. Madge realizes this is the first formal acknowledgement they've heard that secret trials indeed occur.

Fiona lifts a piece of paper from the desk. "I have here a summary of Agent Undersee's transgressions—"

"No," Perri says, her tone not even attempting to conceal her anger. "We're starting with a statement. This entire exercise is a waste of time and an abuse of government power worthy of President Snow." She glares at everyone other than Madge. "I'm disgusted to learn that instead of working to develop defensible guidelines for surveillance and ensuring that no citizens have been treated unfairly, this much energy has been devoted to punishing my niece for being the victim of a theft—and the theft of inconsequential intelligence, at that."

"Because that is _all_ we're talking about here," Perri says, still on a roll. "Madge admits she jotted some of her thoughts in a notebook during non-working hours and that she left those notes in a secure, locked military vehicle, from which they were stolen. It is unclear and certainly debatable whether she should be penalized for such carelessness. If she is, the suspension she already served should more than suffice.

"And that's it," Perri concludes. "If you'd like to discuss the investigation techniques your office _authorizes_ and how it uses that evidence in this _Confidential Court_—" Perri pauses to sneer in the direction of the liaison to the court, "—that's certainly an overdue discussion the country is eager to have. The more public that debate is, the better. But aside from being the victim of a theft, Madge has done nothing your office didn't explicitly direct her to do and she will not be singled out or punished for such actions."

Madge bites her lip and watches Fiona for her reaction. Fiona's eyes are locked on one of her papers. After the longest ten seconds Madge has ever experienced, Fiona slides the page into a folder and then glances at the Confidential Courts man, who jots something on his notepad.

"Of course," Fiona finally says. Her tone suggests she never considered anything else, though Madge suspects this was not Plan A. "But," Fiona continues, "Agent Undersee has not always operated within the confines of authorized investigations." She nods at Amos, a signal for him to take over.

Madge thinks Amos looks obnoxiously proud at having his moment to speak. Also, he should be embarrassed to be wearing that hideous tie in public—a wide-cut neon yellow and pink monstrosity. Amos carefully smoothes the paper in front of him and reads aloud.

"Agent Undersee undertook an unauthorized investigation of one Edwin Barker and his businesses while on medical leave."

"A non-issue," Perri says dismissively. "Madge, explain."

Madge sits forward in her chair and uses her good-little-mayor's-daughter tone. "All I did was look around in my grandparents' old house and then ask the quarry next door when they would open for business again. I told the quarry man who I was."

Perri summarizes. "She was in a public place—our family's former home has been appropriated by the government—and didn't use any of her alternate identities. Naturally she was curious about the quarry."

Amos bites his lip as though he's trying to think of follow-up questions, but it seems to be a strain. He looks down at his paper again and makes a face like he ate something sour. "Sorry, Madge, I have to ask about you and Simon… People have said you have an inappropriate relationship…"

"He's my friend," Madge says automatically. As strange as it feels to have to explain this, it also makes her angry again that Simon was suspended and has to endure his own hearing whenever he gets back from District 3. "My best friend," she adds more forcefully. "We went through the entire war together, from the bombing of 12 to being stuck in 7 when the war ended and nobody knew what was going on… But he doesn't give me special treatment at work. He sends me on the same number of missions as other field agents, even to places I don't want to go."

"Why target his brother?" Amos asks.

"Because his brother is involved in a huge scheme to undercut everything we won in the war!" Madge blurts. "You should know that better than anyone since you took over the investigation!" She can't believe this useless suck-up is sitting here like he's so essential to the department. "Simon and I weren't allowed to work on it, but if you'd done even the slightest amount of research—"

"Madge," Perri cuts her off. Madge sits back in her chair, alarmed at the intensity of her reaction, and tries to breathe normally while Perri smoothes things over. "What my niece is getting at is actually the primary reason we agreed to come here today: to discuss the crimes Madge was trying to prevent. Since being suspended, Madge has collected evidence of a conspiracy to defraud our new country, including the possibility of nuclear weapons development. We feel compelled to inform you so your office may _do its job_ and pursue an investigation to end this thing. The alternative is for us to provide the publicly available information to the media so they can connect the dots on their own and at least prevent a subset of these frauds from occurring. But that wouldn't solve the underlying problem."

Amos looks too confused to speak, but Fiona just smoothly turns to Madge. "What evidence do you have, Agent Undersee?"

Madge swallows and starts talking. "Gale—Lieutenant Hawthorne—and I learned that the land parcel maps for the land distribution proposal had been purposefully altered to hide the true locations of valuable minerals. Reconstruction Committee Member Archibald Douglas ordered a lot of the changes, it looks like so he could help his business associates—including Simon's brother—get exclusive rights to uranium deposits. Uranium can be used for energy and in hospitals, but also to make nuclear weapons, and we found links between one of Simon's brother's companies and a technology company in District 3 that used to do weapons development… I think there's also a connection to those partnerships between Capitol investors and district residents. Those partnerships could be used so control over all the natural resources—basically the starting point of the whole economy—could go right back to the same people who held all the power before the war."

"Those partnerships are extremely popular throughout the country," Fiona says skeptically. "The president herself supports them. This sounds like more of your unjustified assumptions, Margaret."

Madge expected this reaction from Fiona. But she and Amos are both listening, and that the Confidential Courts guy raises his head, also listening carefully. Madge feels a glimmer of hope that she successfully crossed over the line from being in trouble to being valuable to her office again. The feeling gives her a jolt of confidence to explain the rest of her theory.

"Under the partnership agreements, the majority partner—usually the Capitol investor—can buy out minority partners even if they don't want to sell as long as the business has made a certain percentage of profit. It's a technicality that seems fine because the percentage is so large—the minority partner is guaranteed to make a ton of money if bought out—but it could lead to the Capitol investors ending up with control of the country's most valuable minerals, especially if they're hiding the true locations of minerals.

"We have statements from witnesses at the mapping company, proof of the locations of uranium, and copies of a contract with the weapons company." Madge looks at Fiona. "What I don't know—what needs to be explored through a proper investigation—is which people control it, how many are involved, and exactly how they're linked. There are a lot of suspicious connections among the Capitol investors, which might mean an alliance or network of some kind. But this is where surveillance information would help. This _has_ to be enough to qualify as an investigation that the President can allow to continue."

Madge takes a deep breath for the next part, which is where she makes the final leap: from being useful to getting her way. "To make sure this investigation happens, we've provided this same information to the military. We have evidence that violence is being used to obtain future rights to uranium. There have been incidents with bombs and sabotage among competing groups in the mountains areas outside District 2… Since the military oversees all uranium use as a potential nuclear weapon, duty required Lieutenant Hawthorne to report what we learned within his chain of command."

Duty required it, and conveniently, it also worked well as their insurance plan if Madge's hearing didn't go well.

Perri speaks up again. "Lieutenant Hawthorne is briefing top commanders in the army right now actually. If they're feeling particularly cooperative, they might agree to talk to your office before they present this information to the President. Might help your office not look as incompetent as it is." Perri smiles insincerely at Fiona and glances at her watch. "But I'd hurry if were you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2:** A lot of plotty stuff to get through. Reactions? Reviews appreciated!


	22. Raid

**A/N:** Shorter chapter this time. I split this off from a too-long chapter because by some quirk of what I call "writing math," the time I spend editing increases exponentially the longer my chapters are. I really don't understand it. Anyway, hopefully this helps me get both chapters posted sooner.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! And thanks again to Miss Scarlett 05 for helping me out.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22: Raid<strong>

Gale walks into the office where he and all the other Reconstruction Committee members have desks, and unceremoniously flops into his chair. Over the mountain of papers, he watches Committee Member Douglas and his two young assistants across the room.

Douglas must sense Gale's attention because he looks up and says, "Good of you to join us again, Hawthorne. Work fits into your schedule now?"

"Oh, I was working," Gale says evenly. It's torture to hide that he knows Douglas ordered the land proposal maps to be altered, but Madge had stressed the importance of not tipping him off before the raid.

"Looked like you were having trouble with your love life."

Gale thinks he should win one of those Medals of Valor for his restraint. "Nope." His love life is just fine.

"I'll take your word for it." Douglas winks like they're in on a joke together and then picks up the phone to start one of his lengthy, unrelated-to-work conversations about grain patterns in lumber or the newest trends in furniture styles. Gale wonders briefly how someone so corrupt can be so boring, and then shifts his gaze to Douglas's assistants to be sure they aren't up to anything devious. They both seem to be engrossed in committee reports. Like usual, the boy smiles tentatively in Gale's direction, but when all he gets in return is a scowl he turns back to his report.

Gale checks his communicuff for updates, hoping the raid is still on schedule. No new messages, and at least ten more minutes to go. He's an edgy mix of exhausted and wired; it had been a long night. As soon as the joint investigation between Covert Intelligence and the army formally opened yesterday after Madge's hearing, an endless parade of tasks that had to happen _right now_ emerged, keeping all the teams busy late into the night. Gale had to pull together evidence and give directions to the army squads deploying this morning to canvass the District 2 mountain vicinity for more of those trailers. Because the network of conspirators (or gang of assholes, as Gale thinks of them) is potentially so large, the plan is to conduct simultaneous raids throughout the districts to avoid collaborators warning their accomplices elsewhere. That meant a large-scale mobilization, and the earliest everything could be synchronized to begin was this afternoon.

Which is where Gale comes in: keeping watch on the Reconstruction Committee members targeted in the raid. He'd _wanted_ to hunt down trailers and trigger-happy saboteurs in the mountains, but since he shares office space with so many of the raid's targets he'd been assigned babysitting duty. Same with Perri—like him, she's at her own desk, pretending to work while her eyes roam the room. Most people in the office read or write quietly at their desks or make muted phone calls, aside from Douglas's loud discourse on the best lacquers for wood paneling. Gale feels positive he's missing out on more exciting action inevitably happening elsewhere, an uncomfortable repeat of his stint on the Star Squad during the war. The only upside to his apparent post-war destiny of being stuck in an office is that he might see Madge soon—she'd messaged late last night that her suspension had been revoked and she was going to be on a raid in District 2. (_"Very safe, strictly paper!"_ she'd assured him.)

A communicuff across the room chirps the arrival of an incoming message, and Gale looks up in time to see Douglas's annoyingly friendly assistant frown at his wrist. The kid shows the message to the other assistant, who bites her lip and glances at the door. Seconds later, Mr. Friendly opens a desk drawer and transfers a stack of papers to his briefcase.

Gale clenches his teeth—did that punk just get warned about the raid? Forcing a neutral expression onto his face, he stands up and casually strides over to their desks. "That a Model 8550?" He nods at Mr. Friendly's communicuff. "Sounds different than mine."

"Um, yeah, I think so," the guy mutters, holding his hands below the desk. Probably deleting the message and praying Gale doesn't ask to see the communicuff. Gale doesn't because he doesn't want to let on that he's suspicious, but he does sit on Mr. Friendly's desk and gives him a completely fake smile. It's strange enough behavior that Douglas looks up from his phone call to shoot a questioning expression at Gale. But then Douglas continues with his conversation, apparently unaware of the imminent raid. Gale's determined to keep it that way; his assistants can't warn him with Gale hanging around.

Mr. Friendly kicks his briefcase under his desk and swallows nervously. "So… do you need something, Lieutenant Hawthorne?"

"Yeah. I want to know: why does Douglas have two assistants, and I have to do all my own work? I probably need more help than anyone." Gale nods toward his disaster zone desk, littered with unread papers he'll probably just "file" in the trash bin. At the same time, he scans the room for other suspicious behavior. Committee Member Fisher hastily shoves papers into his briefcase, but luckily Perri is already walking over to his desk to delay him.

"Um, I think Mr. Douglas pays for us himself, not the Committee," Mr. Friendly says.

Gale turns back to the kid and smiles snidely. He's done playing nice and can't pull it off anyway. "Maybe if I could afford to pay other people to do my work for me, I could have gotten a land proposal out before you all stole the project."

"We didn't steal… It's… better for the whole country to do things quickly."

"You stole it," Gale accuses. "And just because your boss tells you to do something, that doesn't mean it's right."

Even though Gale's thinking specifically about the fact that Douglas is so lazy he couldn't pull off a fraud without his assistants being deeply involved, it doesn't hurt for the kid to assume Gale's mad about them horning in on his project. Works as a distraction. Before the assistant can do anything other than shrink backward under Gale's glare, Douglas hangs up his phone impatiently and intervenes.

"Hawthorne, why do you have your grubby boots on Mark's desk?"

Gale hops off the desk but keeps staring at the Mark and the girl. "We're just chatting about right and wrong. Sometimes people get them confused."

Douglas launches into a long-winded request for Gale to kindly not harass his hard-working staff, but Gale tunes it out, straining for any indication that the raid team has entered the building. For once Douglas's rambling is a blessing—it saves Gale from making excuses to continue hovering near their desks.

Soon enough, Gale hears fast-moving footsteps in the hallway. Seconds later a flood of agents storm the room, all wearing identical black pants and jackets with "C.I.D." emblazoned in large white letters on the back. Covert Intelligence Department. As soon as they descend on the desks of Douglas and his two assistants, Gale steps back. Agents also surround Fisher and other committee members Gale hadn't even realized were under suspicion. Another team blocks the door so nobody can exit. The room swells with exclamations of disbelief that a respected body like the Reconstruction Committee has been subjected to a CID raid.

"What's going on here?" Douglas asks angrily.

The lead agent, a man Gale doesn't recognize, slaps a paper on Douglas's desk and signals for his colleagues to do the same to the other targeted committee members.

"Search warrant authorized by President Paylor. We're seizing your files and have some questions for you."

"There must be a mistake," Douglas protests. "I was appointed by the president herself."

"And now she wants us to ask you some questions."

"I'm not going anywhere," Douglas huffs.

"You are. In handcuffs or not, your choice."

Gale has the self-control to keep a smirk off his face as he watches Douglas and his assistants mutely follow the agents into the hallway. Mark the no-longer-as-friendly assistant avoids eye contact, probably aware that Gale was onto him. And suddenly a wave of guilt hits Gale: that kid messed around with maps and gets hauled off like a murderer, while Gale actually caused innocents to die and walks free in a cloud of his own smugness?

He returns to his desk, partly to get out of the agents' way and partly because confusion edges out his satisfaction that they're one step closer to busting all the cheaters and schemers. He slumps into his chair and watches the first wave of agents finish escorting the targets out. As they leave, another set of black-clad agents enters the room, holding cardboard file boxes. Gale's head shoots up, searching for Madge. Is this what she meant about her role in the raid being "strictly paper"? The people who pull all the files after the exciting part of the raid ends? She isn't with the second group, though.

He spots Perri on the side of the room, watching over the scene in the same the way the foremen in the mines used to monitor the crews to be sure no one was slacking off. Her eagle eyes land on him. His expression must be pretty grim because she makes her way over to his desk and looks at him expectantly, apparently waiting for him to explain what's bothering him.

"Doesn't it seem off," he says under his breath, "that people who've done much worse things than these people weren't punished? People who did things for Snow? Or during the war?"

Perri peers down at him over the rims of her glasses. "Many _were_ punished."

"But not everyone."

"That would be impossible. The focus of the post-war trials was on the worst of the worst. The trials couldn't go on forever; we did need some of us left to rebuild and move forward. Even if not all of us have unblemished histories."

He takes her statement as an acknowledgement of her own regrets for whatever she did while working for the Capitol. But that doesn't really help. Gale waits until a nearby agent passes them and then speaks even more quietly. "Did Madge tell you I designed weapons during the war?"

"No. But I suspected something like that."

He stares at a drab, gray pamphlet on his desk. Its pages are wrinkled from re-readings and a coffee ring curves through the title. It's one of the ethics essays he keeps coming back to—the one about whether there should be universal rules on how to conduct war. The idea had seemed absurd when Katniss brought it up that day in Special Weapons in 13, but now…

Still focused on the pamphlet, he speaks slowly. "I designed a bomb with a secondary explosion. I meant for it to target the Capitol's medical teams, so they wouldn't be able to help troops injured in the first explosion. It was to give us an advantage in battle…" He glances up and sees Perri's narrowed eyes telegraphing her disapproval. "I know it was wrong. Now. At the time, I…" He trails off, still too frustrated with himself to say anything that sounds like an excuse for his thought process during the war. He plows ahead. "The thing is, I think that design was adapted into… the bomb that ended the war."

He waits for the gasp of horror, but Perri just keeps looking at him in her judgmental way. It's like being turned inside out: studied and rejected. He feels strangely relieved at the confirmation that she thinks what he did was terrible. But that triggers another pang of guilt—he shouldn't get to _feel better_ for knowing that.

"I should have to go through one of those trials," he concludes.

Perri looks annoyed at him. "The president and the prosecutors choose who they try, Gale, not you. And I doubt the Capitol coincidentally employing a similar idea to one of your designs—vile as it was—will tempt them into subjecting you of all people to a trial."

"That's not it," he says sharply, frustrated once again at the reminder of the chasm between his public image and reality. "_Coin_ had my design. She could have used it to turn the country against Snow by making it look like the Capitol set off that bomb."

"Creative theory. What do you have to back it up?"

He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at her. "I know my design."

Perri waits with raised eyebrows for him to elaborate. After spending the last 24 hours painstakingly piecing together evidence of wrongdoing related to the maps and the land parcel scam, Gale knows she wants something more concrete than suspicion and his knowledge of his own design. He glances at Plutarch's desk across the room—Plutarch was in on everything with Coin and probably knows the truth. But Plutarch is also a crafty bastard. Every time Gale has brought up the bomb, Plutarch has adamantly blamed Snow and chided Gale to "stop obsessing and go do something useful." Then he would invariably invite Gale to appear in whatever new waste of time TV show he was pushing that week—Plutarch's definition of useful. Gale and Beetee eventually acknowledged that Plutarch was a dead end and spent their energy going over any other avenue they could think of to figure out once and for all if their design had been used. No matter what, they always ended up with the same answer: _maybe_.

Before Perri can say anything else, a few more CID agents trail into the room. Out of the corner of his eye Gale spots a fair-haired figure. But it's only Simon, who nods a greeting to Gale and Perri and walks toward them. Simon had been unsuspended at the same time as Madge and apparently is back from District 3 now. For once Gale's glad to see him. If Simon is here, chances are Madge is too.

"I'll save you the trouble of asking," Simon greets as he sets an empty cardboard box on the nearest desk. "Madge is with the team at the bank. Our overnight surveillance sweeps showed a number of suspects channeling transfers through the bank in town here. Madge specializes in banks; we needed her there." He glances around the room. "Everything go all right with the raid here?"

"Mostly," Perri says. "No actual arrests; everyone agreed to be questioned."

"Douglas's assistants, and at least Fisher, were tipped off by a few minutes," Gale adds.

Simon frowns. "We tried to synchronize, but with this many raids in this many locations I guess the first targets got warnings out. Any other problems?"

Gale shakes his head, still surprised at how uneventful the raid was. "I thought they'd put up more of a fight." He'd had his gun ready if he needed it. The idea of jabbing someone like Douglas into submission had also crossed his mind as a task he wouldn't necessarily mind.

"We had surprise on our side," Simon points out, "and these people probably don't think they've done anything wrong. Or at least anything they think we could _catch_ them at. A lot of suspects seem to mix those concepts and convince themselves that's all that matters…" He trails off and then takes his cardboard box over to one of the desks to start loading it with files. Perri excuses herself to talk to the chair of the Reconstruction Committee, who just arrived and seems to be frozen in shock in the doorway at the disarray.

Gale checks the watch on his communicuff and wonders how long the bank raid will take and if he'll be able to see Madge afterward. In the distance he hears the deep boom of the town's quarry setting off another blast. Even though it's a promising sign of reconstruction and business returning to the district, he can't help tensing up whenever he hears the rumbling, and this one was louder than the others. Too many memories, none good. The ubiquitous dust on blast days also reminds him of District 12's coal dust, an eerie echo of the past.

His mind wanders back to his conversation with Perri about his bomb design. During the ethics and justice sub-committee meetings he's contributed to the discussions in general terms, but maybe he should use his experience to convince the others about the importance of warfare guidelines and to figure out what those should be. And to sort out what types of wrongs qualify for trials, since that's not clear either. All of that, and trying to make the country safer, would do more to make up for the harms he caused than endlessly hating himself. Besides, his unconscious attempts to punish himself mostly ended up hurting his family and Madge...

A burst of electronic beeping yanks him back to the present. The communicuffs of all the agents in the room sound off in an angry, syncopated rhythm. Gale realizes his own wrist is chirping as well. Text flashes across the tiny screen:

BOMB. D2 BANK. NEED BACKUP.


	23. Second Chance

**A/N: **As promised, the next chapter faster than usual! This is the second to last chapter of this story and it's long, but I needed to deal with a lot before the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and to Miss Scarlett 05 for her editing help.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 23: Second Chance<strong>

He's had this nightmare before. He's _lived_ this nightmare before. Yet here he is again, pushing through fleeing crowds, seeking out her face in the chaos of smoke and onslaught of shouting and sirens, praying she wasn't anywhere near the blast zone. The bomb took out the western side of the bank, and even in his frenzied state Gale can tell from the gash in the wall that the explosion originated from ground level just outside the two-story building. Flames, smoke, and rubble reach into the side street, where Covert Intelligence agents in black suits establish a perimeter a safe distance away. A teenaged girl with blood streaming down one side of her face shouts hysterically for someone named Roscoe. Other figures sit hunched over on the sidewalk, cradling wounded arms or staring dazedly at the flames.

Madge isn't among them.

Pushing through the crowd, Gale grabs the nearest agent's arm. "You seen Agent Undersee?"

"No, not since we all split up at the front door when we got here. _Hey._ I don't care who you are, Hawthorne, that area's not stable. Stay back. Bomb squad's coming."

Gale shoves the agent out of his way. "I am the bomb squad." More so than this guy, at least. Spies might be good at sifting through files and bank records, but Gale knows bombs. He's got his dress uniform on rather than the fatigues he wore in the field when he really was on the bomb squad—good enough to pass himself off.

He takes the bank's front entrance stairs two at a time. A handful of agents and civilians, covered in plaster dust, argue just outside the front door. From what Gale can see of the interior of the building, desk-sized pieces of ceiling litter the floor in the same way quarry rocks dislodge and scatter after a blast. Within seconds he ascertains that these people are debating returning for people in the building's basement where the bomb went off, or waiting for the firefighters.

"Bomb squad," he announces. "How many still inside?"

"Two," one of the agents says. "One of ours and one of the bank's. They were in the records center downstairs… The smoke is getting worse."

"Get behind the line," Gale orders, pointing to the invisible perimeter the other agents set up. He doesn't wait to see if they obey and doesn't respond when they ask why he doesn't have any protective gear or defusing equipment. Inside, he weaves through the debris to the bombed side of the building, where smoke streams into the main floor around the edges of a door. When Gale pushes the door open an even thicker cloud engulfs him.

"Madge!" He yanks his uniform over his nose and mouth and ducks his head as he starts down the stairs. The corridor crackles with the muted, ominous sound of burning, but he can't see any flames. The smoke poses the biggest problem; even if his eyes weren't watering he wouldn't be able to see through the billowing gray haze. Running his hand along the wall, he feels his way down the stairs, taking as few breaths as possible. He prays he's going after someone other than Madge, that she's waiting safely outside the building, intact and plagued only by worries.

The smoke grows denser the lower he descends. When he runs out of stairs, he stumbles along the hallway until he trips on debris that feels like stone. He must be closer to the detonation site. Definitely closer to the fire, judging by the heat, although no flames have reached the hallway. He ducks down to crawl since the smoke is incrementally less overwhelming on the floor, and fights off the memories of struggling through smoke during the worst of it that final night in 12. This smoke is even worse because it's trapped in an enclosed area, and he has to shut his eyes as he crawls.

He hears coughing over the chorus of splintering wood and distant sirens. Squinting through the haze, he spots a human-shaped form ahead, half-standing, half-leaning against the wall.

"Madge!" His voice comes out like a croak, but it's enough. The person turns.

He pushes himself to his feet and lunges forward, relieved beyond belief to see it _is_ Madge and that she's well enough to stand. Her CID uniform is covered with dust and the right sleeve of her jacket is ripped, but he doesn't see any blood or broken bones.

"Help me pull her!" Madge rasps, gesturing to the floor. A dark-haired woman stretches face-down along the hallway, apparently unconscious. Madge must have been lugging her to safety.

"Anyone else down here?" he shouts.

She shakes her head and starts coughing again, so he pushes her toward the stairs and grabs the woman's hands. Madge had the right idea; dragging is faster and keeps her out of the worst of the smoke. When he reaches the stairs, he picks the woman up under her knees and ribs, hoping it isn't too late for her. A ragged red cut jags across her forehead. It's not gushing, though it does explain why she's out.

Ahead of him on the stairs Madge starts to sway and then doubles over, succumbing to a violent coughing fit and coming dangerously close to losing her balance. He twists so he can reach up to steady her.

"Almost there." She feels so delicate—how did she end up in this situation? Again! He pushes the thought away and gives her another shove upward. Thankfully she stumbles forward. He tries to stay one step behind her so he can catch her if she loses her balance again, and clears his mind of anything other than moving upward one stair at a time, guarding Madge, and not dropping the woman he's carrying.

Halfway through their struggle up the stairs, three figures in fatigues and facemasks appear. Gale slumps against the wall in relief; never before have his old bomb squad crewmates looked so good. One person scoops up Madge and the other two rush toward Gale and the unconscious woman.

"They said there's no one else," he reports through hacking coughs as he hands over the woman. "Fire's back there." Obviously. He's wasting his breath and they know it—they just shove him up the stairs before rushing deeper into the smoke. When he reaches the top of the stairwell, he lurches into someone else who wraps him in a crinkly foil blanket and guides him toward the sunlight. Several more bomb squad members and firefighters run past him into the building. The blanket-giver—a medic?—passes him a canteen of water, which he gulps gratefully and pours on his face to wash away the layer of ash.

The air clears outside the building, making breathing much easier. A large crowd has gathered behind the perimeter line, anxious to see what's happening within the bank. Gale's focus is outward, though. Where is she? How can there be so many people on this street but not the one he needs? Where did they take her?

Another fire truck approaches the building, horn and siren angrily warning the crowd to clear a path. As the wall of people shifts, Gale catches a glimpse of Madge and feels his panic subside. She sits on a bench across the street behind the crowd, wrapped in a foil blanket. A medic and a CID agent seem to be tending to her and asking her questions because every once in a while she distractedly shakes her head. Mostly she keeps trying to stand up and return to the building.

With a jolt he realizes she must be looking for him. He jogs down the stairs, and when Madge's eyes find his her face scrunches into what he recognizes as Madge-is-going-to-cry mode. Whatever foundation of calm she'd cobbled together has clearly collapsed. She runs toward him and he catches her in a hug to tight they both almost fall over. Madge erupts into body-wracking sobs that he can feel through his chest. He fights back a choking sensation in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut to ward off that prickly feeling that's threatening to make him cry too.

"You did it," he whispers. "You got her out. She'll be all right."

The words are for his benefit as much as hers, but Madge is crying too violently to speak so he guides her away from the crowd to a shaded area between two buildings. She continues to cling to him, head buried in his chest.

"You're safe now," he says softly into her hair. He mumbles other reassurances—she was so good at keeping her head during the crisis, they'll catch whoever did this—but he doubts it matters what he says as much as that he's speaking to her in a low, soothing voice and rubbing her back comfortingly—physical reminders that he's nearby.

Eventually her crying slows to an occasional hiccupping sound. Still hugging her, he taps out a message on his communicuff to Simon and Perri that she's safe. Over her head, he watches the slow return of order to the scene around the bank across the street. The firefighters and bomb squad congregate around the bank's destroyed wall and front entrance. Uniformed soldiers and CID agents work together on crowd control. Several agents also appear to be interviewing bystanders and victims—starting to sort out how the hell the bank was bombed during a raid, he hopes.

Madge pulls herself back, rubbing her eyes with her hands. When she smiles weakly at him, he pulls her hands into his and holds her gaze. He wants to tell her how relieved he is that she's safe, but the words seem too inconsequential to convey how overwhelming the feeling is. He wants to soak the sensation in and let it fill in the hollowness he remembers from that devastating final night in 12 when he couldn't find her. She even looks like she must have that night—ash coats her face except where tears tracked across her splotchy red cheeks.

Only right now she's smiling. "Gale—"

"Madge!"

Gale turns to find Simon standing unsteadily at the entrance to the alley. Breathing heavily, he looks like he skidded to a stop from a run as soon as he spotted Gale and Madge. He must have just gotten Gale's communicuff message. Madge immediately pulls herself away from Gale and rushes at Simon to hug him. Then they both start talking at once.

"You're all right?" Simon demands, pushing her away to inspect her. "Did you report to Barnes already? What about the rest of your team?"

"Everyone's out." Her voice sounds raw and huskier than usual. "I was in the basement records room with the bank's file clerk. I was behind a filing cabinet when it happened, but she was closer to the wall…"

Gale winces at the image and the awareness that even Madge's "strictly paper" assignment took such a dangerous turn. He glances toward the bank again, putting it together that the bomb was most likely deliberately set to target that records room. External detonation, could have had a timer… Maybe some of the components survived the explosion. Madge seems stable enough now, engaged in a rapid-fire exchange with Simon about people Gale doesn't know; Gale should go help the bomb squad forensics team search for clues.

He's about to excuse himself when Simon says something that grabs his attention.

"He's here, Madge. My brother. In District 2."

#

Madge walks steadily alongside Simon, but internally she careens back and forth between sympathy for what he must be going through and her own fury at his brother. Simon weaves deftly through the crowds of people standing on the square watching the ongoing attempt to fight the now-smaller fire at the bank.

"Apparently an agent recognized Edwin on the street in the crowd after the bombing," Simon explains. "They _invited_ him to answer some questions, since he's a target of the raid on his office and he obviously wasn't there… It's all very polite since there's no good evidence on him."

"Yet," Madge adds.

"Yet," Simon agrees grimly. "But, what is he doing here? His office is in the Capitol."

Madge agrees the coincidence is a bit much. "Do they… think he had something to do with the bomb?" Her voice doesn't sound like her own yet, still scratchy from all her coughing and the smoke damage.

"I don't know."

She doesn't think Simon sounds confident in his brother's innocence, but she also knows his brother is rarely the one to get his hands dirty and won't usually risk anything being traced back to him. But that doesn't mean he couldn't have ordered someone else to set off the bomb, especially if he was tipped off about the raid. "Where is he now?"

"They said he was over this way," Simon gestures vaguely down the street away from the bank. The street teems with people straining to watch the dwindling fire and conferring with one another about the latest news. "Like that helps. God, what a mess. I thought the war was over."

The street does look eerily like some of the districts Madge visited during the war. She scans the scene, eyes lingering on the explosion site and, specifically, Gale. He's helping the bomb squad experts piece together clues from the smoldering wreckage. Madge watches him frown as he listens to another man speak, and then they both scramble over the rubble into the building's interior. She worries about the possibility of another bomb or that he'll hurt himself. As if he can feel her eyes on him, he turns and shoots her a reassuring smile. She smiles back and keeps watching him until she feels Simon's walking pace beside her slow and then stop.

Madge stops as well and follows his gaze to the shuttered storefront across the street. Simon mutters, "Why am I even surprised?"

His brother Edwin stands surrounded by a knot of reporters holding handheld recording machines toward him like offerings. Trust Edwin to get an early start on warping public opinion. Madge seethes at his ability to switch so quickly from being a raid target to a media darling.

Simon seems to be frozen to the ground, like he isn't sure what to do now that they've found Edwin. Madge doesn't know either. She wants to support Simon, but she doesn't want to risk the success of the investigation by giving anything away to Edwin. He knows now that he was a target in the raids, so any advantage they had on him due to surprise has vanished.

Finally Simon recovers enough to make his legs walk to his brother. Madge follows. They hang back behind the clustered reporters and catch the tail end of Edwin's comments.

"And I hope for the sake of other bank customers like myself that operations can resume quickly so we can keep our businesses thriving. And hiring more workers so we can _all_ move on with our lives after the war." Looking over the heads of some of the reporters, Edwin raises his eyebrows at the sight of Simon. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to my brother." He smiles graciously at the reporters. When they move to follow him he adds, "I'm sorry, private family time—like everyone else, we're very upset about these events." Then he walks over to Madge and Simon. Looking only at Simon, he gestures for them to follow him further down the block to a more secluded area. Madge wonders if he doesn't recognize her, or if the reporters haven't identified her because the bomb and fire left her looking like a… well, what she is: a District 12 refugee.

Edwin does recognize her, though, and stops restraining his sneer when they stop walking. But he also doesn't waste energy on her and directs his comments only to Simon.

"You're involved in all this? Mother said you were on vacation. You lie to her now, too?"

Simon crosses his arms. "I was suspended from work until this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

Edwin glares in Madge's direction. It's startling to see such hostility from someone who looks so similar to Simon. "Thank _her_ and your own poor judgment for associating with her. Still, I see." He turns back to Simon. "One of your little friends in these silly black uniforms wanted to ask me questions but he vanished. You know, Simon, I really don't have time for this ongoing harassment from your office. My _bank_ was just bombed. This is a huge disruption to my business affairs—"

Simon grabs his brother's arm and says in a low voice, "You brought this on yourself and you know it. You set up Madge, you purposefully blew our covers at work—"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Edwin smoothly withdraws his arm. "But I can see you've been poisoned by these vindictive fools into mistrusting me." He glances again at Madge distastefully. "You are aware, Simon, that she's not interested in you? That she's sleeping with that trash from her former district."

Madge sucks in her breath, but before she can say anything Simon stumbles backward as though he's been pushed. "You don't know me at all," he says with a shake of his head. "You don't even want to, or you'd know how wrong you are about me. And Madge. And, _damn it_, I live in this country, too. Whether you like it or not, the rest of us have a say now. And we don't want to spend the next ten years with power-hungry assholes squabbling over every damn mineral claim and risking the rest of us for it. I don't want people setting off bombs to get their way!"

"Nor do I," Edwin says calmly.

"Then don't do it!" Simon shouts. A few people across the street glance in their direction, and even Madge flinches in surprise. She's never seen Simon this angry. "People could have been killed! I could have been in there! Madge _was_ in there!" He turns to look down the street and exhales slowly, trying to collect his composure. After a few seconds he looks back at his brother. "Advice. Don't lie when they question you; they might go easier on the punishment if you cooperate."

"How _dare_ you suggest—"

Madge can't take it anymore and steps forward. "How confident are you that the bank's records were destroyed?" She doesn't care if he thinks she's bluffing; she isn't. That woman wasn't all Madge rescued from the bank. The backup server disk was small enough to shove into the pocket of her uniform. She already turned it over to her team leader so the data retrieval experts could get to work.

Edwin glares at her with so much venom it feels like a physical assault. He doesn't say anything else, but she guesses he's thinking through the potential damage—his contact with the bank, which accounts, which transfers can be linked to him. From the preliminary data they collected overnight, quite a bit. She also smugly thinks about the rare earth metal mining prospectors she and Gale encountered in the mountains yesterday morning—they provided statements about employees linked to Edwin's businesses sneaking around in the mountains sabotaging competitors' vehicles and equipment.

Before Edwin can speak again, two soldiers approach. Madge doesn't know them, but she perks up when she spots Gale flanking them. He hangs back, wearing one of his deadly calm expressions that just barely masks his anger.

"Edwin Barker," one soldier says, "we have some questions for you."

Edwin lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm already waiting for the spies to question me. Now the army, too? Are you all so incompetent that you can't keep straight who's doing what?"

The soldier eyes Simon and Madge in their black uniforms. "I don't give a rat's ass who you're waiting for. We're questioning everybody seen near the bank before the explosion. Several witnesses place you on the street."

"I had a meeting at the bank earlier," Edwin says testily. "I have accounts for my businesses in District 2."

"Fine. Answer our questions, test clean for gunpowder residue, and be on your merry way to talk to the CID agents."

Edwin glares over the soldiers' shoulders to the silent and dark shadow Gale casts. Then he narrows his eyes at Madge and Simon. "I won't let it stand that your sordid little love triangle means I have to be subjected to accusations and invasive tests—"

"Enough of this garbage," Gale says sharply. He nods to the other two soldiers. "Run the test." As they step forward and pull a wand out of a case, Gale adds, "We're questioning and testing everyone who was seen near the bomb site. You're not special. We found the remnants of the bomb's casing. It was small enough to fit in a pocket and could easily have been fitted with a timer—any passerby could have planted it. Conveniently outside the records room."

Madge bites her lip anxiously as she watches one soldier wave the wand over Edwin while the other monitors a small screen attached by a wire. Simon tenses beside her, studying his brother closely. Edwin's face is a picture of steely fury. Madge imagines he's outraged at the situation no matter whether he set off the bomb or not. If he didn't do it, he's undoubtedly furious at the indignity of being suspected and subjected to a gunpowder residue test. If he did do it, he probably refuses to believe he could be caught.

A shrill series of electronic beeps emits from the wand. The soldier moves it back and forth over Edwin's chest, and the beeping intensifies when he pushes the wand into the suit jacket's interior breast pocket.

"Positive for powder," the soldier watching the monitor announces.

The wand also beeps when they hold it over Edwin's hands.

Simon looks as pale as he did after the bombing of 12 when he was so injured he would wake up for only minutes at a time. Madge grabs his elbow to catch him if he faints. She's surprised, too—Edwin gives orders and always takes special care to ensure nothing can be pinned on him. She has enough evidence on him from other sources to show how central he is to the corruption she's uncovered. But if he physically set off the bomb at the bank, maybe it means the raid caught him off-guard and desperation forced him to abandon his usual caution…

Edwin immediately launches into accusation mode. "This is a set up," he hisses at Gale. "You rigged that machine."

The bomb squad soldiers calmly stow their wand and monitor and pull out handcuffs. "The machine works perfectly, sir." They put the handcuffs on Edwin and squint in Gale's direction, probably wondering why this guy is bothering to dispute something so obvious. Madge knows why: in the World According to Edwin, if he thinks something then it must be true. He doesn't want to get caught having set off a bomb; therefore someone else is responsible.

Edwin keeps glaring at Gale. "You won't get away with framing me. I know your type. You hate me and everyone from the Capitol on principle, will go to any lengths to punish those of us who didn't _suffer_ like you did." He says "suffer" as though it's a false badge that district residents claim—outrageously—as a justification for the war.

Gale shakes his head in disgust and crosses his arms over his chest. "No one is framing you, jackass. You just set off a _bomb_ that nearly killed my girlfriend and a bunch of other people. You can't spin your way out of this."

"Come on," one of the soldiers says. Edwin grits his teeth and roughly brushes past Gale, who shoves back. And then without a glance at Simon, Edwin follows the soldiers away.

Madge doesn't feel vindicated as much as worried about Simon, who hasn't said anything since Gale and the bomb squad soldiers arrived. He still looks pale and dazed.

"Let's go sit down," she says decisively, pulling Simon by the elbow to the window ledge of the nearest storefront. He follows mutely, apparently still in shock. Madge sits him down and puts her hands on both of his shoulders. "I'm going to talk to Gale for a second, and then you and I will figure out what you're going to do about all this. OK?"

He nods, barely, and then bends his head into his hands. It's strange to see him so distraught. Simon has taken such good care of her lately, but maybe now it's her turn to take care of him. She squeezes his shoulder once and then walks back to where Gale waits.

Seeing the hint of a smile on Gale's face brighten the closer she draws to him is thrilling in the same way hearing him refer to her as his girlfriend was. Even better: being close enough to rest her hands on his chest while they talk and feeling his arms automatically encircling her.

Gale kisses her forehead and sighs heavily. "Remind me to never say anything snotty about Rory ever again. He's a baby chick in comparison to that guy."

Madge smiles sadly and glances over at Simon, who's staring at his shoes. "It was always going to be tough once we nabbed his brother, but this bomb takes it to another level…" Edwin is probably already dreaming up other explanations for how gunpowder ended up on his hands and how he had no knowledge of any of the shady deals and acts of sabotage his companies were conducting. The bank records will help contradict that—payments to certain thugs and businesses on certain days—but it's virtually certain Edwin will fight every scrap of evidence. The gunpowder will be tough to overcome, though.

Gale tugs her closer so she has to pay attention to him again. "I want to see you later. Are you staying in 2 tonight?" His voice is still gravelly and lower than usual from the smoke. Or maybe he's purposefully lowering his tone because he knows she likes it. He slides his hands down her back to her rear and smiles slyly. "You can always crash with me."

She wants nothing more than to crash with him, into him, whatever. But she and her raid team have to return to headquarters in the Capitol immediately to sort through all the evidence collected in the raids and to see if any more raids are necessary. Madge apologetically explains that the mission isn't over yet and adds, "It's probably just as well. I think Simon could use some company."

Gale nuzzles her ear, clearly attempting to get her to sign on to a new mission: Operation Slumber Party with Gale. "Let his own girlfriend comfort him. That District 3 girl, whatsername."

Madge snaps to attention and moves her head so she can see Gale's face. "Simon has a girlfriend?"

He looks startled at her reaction and then quickly narrows his eyes at her. "You're jealous?"

"No!" She swats him. "Surprised! How could he not have told me? How do _you_ know this before _me_?"

"I don't know," Gale says, his tone also conveying that he doesn't care now that he understands Madge's alarm was due not knowing the news rather than jealousy. "You guys can gossip tonight and get caught up. When are you coming back here again?"

"Soon," she promises. "By the 20th for sure." Gale stares blankly at her so she reminds him. "For the concert." Their date.

Gale grins. Then his expression grows serious again. "You sure you'll be all right tonight, Madge? That bomb probably stirred up some memories—"

"I'll be okay." She reaches up to hug him tightly and holds on for a long time that still doesn't feel like nearly enough. Finally he releases her with a kiss, promises to actually answer the phone when she calls, and walks back to the crumbling bank wall to help with the bomb cleanup. Madge watches him retreat and thinks about what he'll look like in a suit on their date. He owns a suit, doesn't he? It doesn't matter—he would look good in anything. And nothing. She blushes the second the thought pops into her head, and of course Gale chooses that exact moment to turn around and look back at her. She waves quickly, hoping her hand blocks her red face.

Then she walks back to Simon and sits beside him, though he barely reacts. He looks tired, like everyone, but without the excited edge most other agents have had about the raids. She doesn't know what to say. Sorry your brother is a dirty criminal? I hope they lock him up for a long time? Have fun explaining to your pro-Capitol mother why you helped get her favorite son arrested?

What comes out is: "Why did Gale know before I do that you have a girlfriend?"

It's either so surprising or so inconsequential that it spurs Simon out of his dazed state.

"Gale exaggerates out of wishful thinking," he says slowly. "Although if I knew him thinking I had a girlfriend would get him off my back, I would have made someone up a long time ago. He's a lot easier to deal with now."

Madge keeps staring at him. "Well? Who is she?" And what if Madge doesn't approve?

After a pause, Simon runs his hand through his hair. Stalling. "Remember Melinda?"

In a flash it makes sense. Melinda was a District 3 operative Madge and Simon ate dinner with every night when they were at the rebel base in 3 during the war. Madge remembers that Melinda and Simon did spend an awful lot of time flirt-fighting during those dinners. Something else clicks.

"_Oh!_ She was the 'M' I saw on your calendar the other day! Were you visiting her in District 3?"

Simon rolls his eyes, a comfortingly normal response that gives her hope he's still himself despite this situation with his brother. "You're such a snoop, Madge. Yeah, we kept in touch, would get together when she had business in the Capitol. You were usually out on missions in other districts. I… wasn't really sure what was going on and you were having your own problems so I didn't say anything. When we were suspended I figured I'd visit her in 3. I couldn't deal with all Edwin's distortions or my mom haranguing me about doing what he says—I just needed to get away.

"Melinda is the one who found those weapons contracts, actually," he offers. "She's got a lot of contacts in 3. After Gale told me what you guys found yesterday in the mountains, Melinda and I started asking around." He turns to looks at Madge, guessing what she's wondering. "Yes, of course I _thought_—for a second—about not turning the contracts over. I knew he was a jerk and that he was wrong… I thought, or maybe just hoped, there might be some kind of mistake in the paperwork—it was like I could already hear him explaining it all away in some perfectly rational, plausible way… But by going so far he made it easier for me. _Nuclear weapons?_ Who knows if he wanted them made for the political leverage or if he actually meant to use them at some point… I'm sure he'll have and endless stream of explanations. He's so convinced he's right and everyone else is wrong, especially me—how can you reason with someone like that? I couldn't take the risk."

Madge just nods, not wanting to belabor how troubling Edwin's actions are. Simon sounds so downtrodden a flare of sympathy pushes her into giving him another hug. She lost her parents in the war, but Simon's family has fallen apart before his eyes with his mother and brother still living.

"You know you're family to me, right?" she says.

He releases her and smiles sadly. "Family? Or a hotel?"

"Hotel with an excellent restaurant. And great prices."

Simon smiles and shakes his head. "Brat."

#

Fighting through the fog of fatigue, Gale drives out to the Whistlers' house once again, this time to retrieve his family. It's time for him to bring them back to his own apartment, and past time for him to talk, _really_ talk, to them. He spends the majority of the ride rehearsing what he'll say. When he gets to the house he's greeted by the frenzied barking of Zipper, who darts from the garage workshop into the entryway to assault Gale's legs. Vick, Posy, and Rory pour out of the garage in pursuit. He hopes they were being careful; Dusty and Perri aren't home yet and he suspects Vick and Rory think they know more than they do about how to use the tools.

"Look at this, Gale." Posy grabs Zipper around the neck. "We went shopping today and I got Zipper a purple collar so he can be pretty."

Vick looks offended. "I keep telling you, Zipper is a boy. He doesn't want to be pretty."

"He was excited for his new collar," Posy counters.

"He's excited for everything!"

Their mom interrupts the exchange by emerging from the kitchen and greeting Gale with a hug. Quietly she asks, "And you said Madge is all right?"

He'd given her an abbreviated version of the afternoon's events over the phone and suggested she not turn on the news. The scenes of bomb damage wouldn't do his siblings any favors.

"She's shaken but fine. _Really_," he adds when his mother looks skeptical. Then he clears his throat and says more loudly, "I need to talk to everyone."

Hazelle gestures for the others to take seats in the living room. Posy scrambles for the seat next to her on the long couch, while Vick sits at the other end. Rory warily crosses his arms and follows them into the living room, but leans against the wall instead of committing to the conversation by taking a seat. Gale perches on the arm of the same loveseat he and Madge sat in when reading over the land proposal just days ago. It feels too empty without her for him to sit in it properly.

Once everyone settles, he tries to remember exactly how he was going to start his speech but the fatigue has driven it out of his mind. He goes for the direct approach. "I want to stay here," he announces. "In District 2. I need to stick with this Reconstruction Committee work at least until the new government is formed."

His mother squints at him. "Is this supposed to be news, dear? We figured that's what you intended. You're enlisted and you've been stationed here. You're quite popular, you know; I can't imagine them assigning you to something other than what you're doing right now."

"I'm not going to reenlist when my service is up," he clarifies. He's ready to make his own decisions about his life, and today's bombing incident aside, the country doesn't need as many active duty soldiers anymore. "Even after the elections, I want to stay on with the new government. There are still a lot of jack—" he glances at Posy and edits himself. "—corrupt people trying to cheat their way back to how things were under Snow. Stopping them is what I can do to make sure the war stays won. And to make sure things are better than they were." Like working on those warfare rules...

He takes a breath and continues with the second half of his announcement. "If you all want to settle in District 12, I'll visit you as often as I can. And you can visit me. I just need to be here for right now."

That was it. The speech seemed longer in his head. He watches his family for their reactions.

Posy speaks first. "IwanttostaywithGale." She looks nervously at the rest of the family, as though scared someone will challenge her opinion. Hazelle pats her head but doesn't say anything.

Rory pushes himself off the wall. "So you might move back to 12 later? Once we have the new government?"

"I don't know. Maybe." On taking in Rory's suspicious expression, Gale adds, "I want to be with Madge." No point hiding that. It's one of the few things he's certain of. "I don't know if she'll want to move back to 12. But for now I think it would be best for her to be out here near her aunt and uncle, and her friend Simon in the Capitol."

"Zipper lives here too," Posy adds. "She'll want to be near him." On hearing his name, Zipper trots over to Posy and nudges her leg until she pets him.

Vick raises his hand.

Rory rolls his eyes. "You don't need to raise your hand, Vick. We're not in school."

Vick ignores Rory and waits until Gale impatiently nods in his direction. "I think that seems fair," Vick says. "Madge doesn't have any parents or other relatives in District 12 anymore. I can see why she would want to stay here."

Hazelle studies Gale for a moment and then turns her gaze to Rory. "Rory? What do you think?"

Rory examines the floor for a few long seconds. "Vick's right." He looks out the window, where a hummingbird hovers near a branch of the small pine tree in the Whistlers' front yard. "And this place isn't as bad as I thought," Rory says grudgingly. "But what about Katniss? Can we visit her?"

Gale nods stiffly and hopes that his inner turmoil isn't obvious. "If she wants to see us," he says carefully. For him, that's a big if. But Katniss already saw the rest of them without melting down, so maybe they can visit her without him.

Rory seems to be satisfied with his answer and walks over to one of the armchairs, which he slumps into. Zipper wanders over to sniff his leg and is rewarded with a scratch behind the ears. Gale feels a surge of affection for Rory, especially in contrast to Simon's corrupt brother. Maybe being consulted about where the family should live was what Rory needed—he even seemed to accept that Madge factored into Gale's priorities.

Vick looks intently at their mother. "So, are we staying here?" When she smiles in his direction and nods, he blurts out, "I call the attic room."

Rory sits up and glares at Vick. "You're younger, you don't just get to _call_ which room you want and get it."

Vick makes a panicked plea to their mother. "Mom, I _never_ get anything—"

She cuts him off. "We don't have the house yet. I'm not listening to any of this." At Gale's confused expression, she explains, "We found a house we like in the village here. It's available and in our price range once the resettlement funds come through." She smiles and gets a faraway look in her eyes. "It has a washing machine and dryer."

That cues a conversation about the other qualities of the house, with everyone else chiming in with their favorite feature. Too mystified to respond, Gale just listens.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Cleverness points to Miss Scarlett 05 for Hazelle's washing machine line. ;) One more chapter: Gadge concert date! For everyone who wanted more of Gadge together, you'll be getting it! In the meantime, I'm interested in your reactions to this chapter so please review (liked, didn't like, confused, anything). Thanks in advance!


	24. Concert Date

**Author's Note:** Last chapter! I wanted to take a moment up front to thank last chapter's reviewers without accounts who I couldn't respond to individually—thanks, all! And to the person who was wondering what Simon looks like, all I've said about him is that his hair is a shade slightly darker than Madge's, that they can pull off looking related, and that he dresses well (being from the Capitol). But you can also infer that he's attractive enough that Gale feels threatened of him for a reason—that's just something that neither Madge nor Gale will consciously think about, Madge because she doesn't think of Simon that way and Gale because he doesn't want to acknowledge his jealousy. :P

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 24: Concert Date<strong>

Gale tugs on his tie as Madge's train rumbles into the station. He feels like he's being choked and doesn't trust that Milo taught him the right knot. It looked okay in the mirror, although the concept of wearing a decorative noose is still disturbing. He's only tolerating it because formalwear seems to be expected at these concerts and because Madge will probably like it.

Where is she? Other travelers disembark, but he hasn't seen her yet. He hopes she didn't miss this train, too—she was supposed to be on the earlier one but there were several last minute arrests this afternoon in the investigation and Madge wanted to ask them some questions herself. They were more members of that network of investors conspiring to take control of the natural resources. Over the week and a half since the raids began, Madge's theories have been proven right by the information collected in the raids and the confessions of people like Douglas's assistants, whose loyalty to the network was only paycheck-to-paycheck. The investigators were able to leverage confessions from lower-ranking network members to nail the ringleaders like Simon's slimy brother Edwin. Madge said they have plenty of evidence and witnesses to prove Edwin was one of the brains behind the operation, though of course he's got an army of lawyers helping him spin reality into whatever slant he thinks best supports his story, facts be damned. Luckily, Edwin's trial—public—will be one of the first, scheduled to start in the fall.

Gale spots a blonde woman stepping off the train, and it takes him a second to recognize her as Madge. She's wearing a deep green, slinky dress that sweeps to just below her knees. A shimmery white wrap drapes over her nearly bare shoulders, the thin straps of her dress the only splash of color above the dress's neckline. Her hair is twisted on top of her head in a complicated knot that he can't wait to undo later. She looks more grown up, and unfamiliar in an exotic way… Until she smiles. The second she spots him, her face lights up and she becomes every inch _his_ Madge. She unglamorously leaps toward him and he catches her in a hug. He lifts her off the ground and spins her, which makes her laugh through her rushed apology about being late.

When he sets her down, she beams up at him and he realizes her face is closer to his than usual. "You're taller."

Madge kicks out a foot clad in what looks like a sandal armed with a battle-ready spike. "I grew. For tonight only. But don't worry, I packed your kind of shoes, too." She gestures toward her traveling bag, which Gale reaches over to pick up. He's glad she remembered to bring her hiking gear—he's got a route planned out already for the weekend.

Without warning, Madge hugs him again. "I missed you," she says into his shoulder.

"I missed you, too." He squeezes her for emphasis, and takes a moment to breathe her in and feel her body against his. It's only been a little over a week since he last saw her and they talk on the phone every night, but nothing compares to this. She won't be moving to District 2 for several more months—she's too integral to the corruption investigation based in the Capitol—and he has a feeling it's going to get harder and harder to only see her on weekends. But compared to her being dead, weekends and an hour-long train ride aren't so bad.

Also not so bad: her slinky dress. The fabric is can't-keep-his-hands-off-it silky and he finds himself sliding his hands along her sides. Seconds later they're kissing and he drops her traveling bag back onto the ground so he can focus on using both hands to fully enjoy the satiny fabric of her dress.

"Get a room! Geez!"

A voice shouts from across the platform, causing Madge to jump back from Gale. He glares in the direction of the yeller, a guy a little older than him who looks like the District 2 types who trained to be Careers. In other words, a complete tool. But Gale's actually more frustrated by the awareness that he agrees with the tool and wishes they _could_ get a room instead of going to this concert.

"Um, we _are_ running late," Madge says. Her face is flushed, and Gale suspects not only due to embarrassment.

"Let's go," he agrees, grabbing her bag again with one hand and sliding the other around her waist for the walk to the jeep. "So," he says, determined not to ruin their first date by dragging her back to his empty apartment right now, "what happened in that meeting this morning? Did your boss get canned?"

"No, and I don't think she will," Madge says petulantly. "She's one of those people who always manages to come out on top. Perri said Fiona usually does the right thing and gets the right result, which is why she's survived for so long both under Snow and under Paylor. She's getting credit for the success of the raids." Madge shrugs. "Which I guess is the bargain we made by dealing with her. But she did clear my record and Simon's, and everyone we work with knows the raids were our idea. That's enough for me."

Gale grunts in response as he opens the passenger door for Madge. He thinks she should get a national medal for peacefully foiling what could have been a very messy, dangerous situation, but he knows she's more concerned with repairing the problems and keeping a low profile than recognition. Besides, he wouldn't wish fame on anyone.

He walks to the driver's side of the jeep and starts the engine. The auditorium is located on the outskirts of town and they should arrive just in time. As he pulls into traffic, he asks how Simon is coping.

"All right," Madge says unconvincingly. She sighs and looks out the window at the passing stone block buildings. "At least he has that surveillance project with Perri to focus on. That's been helping."

Simon and Perri have been organizing a large public forum on the role of surveillance in the new country. Perri said the purpose was to assess public values and opinions about when surveillance should be allowed, in what forms, and who should have authority to approve it. Gale's working on a similar forum related to weapons and warfare guidelines. They'll use the feedback from the forums to develop new laws and standards.

Madge looks over at him. "Did you talk to Milo about the maps today?"

Gale grins. "He said it would only be a week or two before all the new ones are ready. Which means we can have the public vote a couple of weeks after that." Because of the investigation, the Reconstruction Committee's land distribution proposal vote was cancelled until accurate maps were available. So many of the mapping materials were confiscated in the raids, Gale had been worried it would take forever to get updated maps, but Milo assured him that he had all the information and just needed to hire the right person to help pull everything together. Milo had seemed dazed during the discussion, not yet used to the reality that he was in charge of the mapping company, thanks to the previous owners being implicated in the corruption probe.

"I might have to suffer through some field trips to double-check the maps are right this time," Gale adds with a wink at Madge. He was voted in as chair of the newly formed geography subcommittee earlier in the week.

Madge reaches over and pats his knee. "You're good at suffering, aren't you?"

#

The District 2 auditorium is part of a complex formerly used for Peacekeeper training; Gale assumes they used the auditorium for presentations and training films on how to oppress and be a jerk. Since the war ended, it's been converted into a cultural venue and this piano concert is the inaugural event. A slough of media outlets are covering the concert, judging from the vehicles Gale spots as he pulls into the parking lot. He decides it's a blessing that he and Madge are behind schedule and parks behind the building so they can sneak in through a back entrance. The tabloids don't hang around outside his apartment anymore, and he was able to claim that his gun had gone off accidentally so he didn't have to pay for the damage to their transmitter whatsit thing, but they'd probably flip out to see him dressed up and on a date.

Inside, Gale guides Madge to the second floor to their seats: a private balcony. Apparently the balconies were formerly observation areas used by visiting Capitol big wigs to scrutinize their troops. Taking in the secluded, cozy balcony, Gale appreciates the trade he made to upgrade their seats. All he has to do is take the son of one of the Reconstruction Committee members on a few hunting trips, which Gale figures means letting the kid tag along when he takes his own siblings out for their lessons. Even though he's optimistic about the new government, he's not taking any chances; he wants his family equipped to survive off the land.

"Here we are." Gale pushes aside a heavy royal blue felt curtain to reveal their balcony. The view spans the entire auditorium and Madge immediately rushes to the ledge to take it in. Gale sees an old, functional government training facility gussied up with new carpeting, a paint job in muted tones, and the occasional potted plant. But Madge seems enraptured, eagerly absorbing every detail.

He joins her at the ledge. "Spying?"

She turns and smiles. "There are so many famous musicians here tonight, Gale. Culture really is coming back. Isn't it lovely that they're holding this concert in a district? All the best performances used to be exclusively in the Capitol. If we were lucky we could pick them up on radio or TV."

Gale restrains himself from reminding her that in the Seam they wouldn't have even had the electricity to pick up broadcasts—it doesn't matter anymore and he wouldn't have tuned in to a piano concert anyway.

Madge traces the grain pattern in the wood ledge of the balcony. "My mom… used to tell me about a symphony performance in the Capitol she and my dad went to before the Capitol hurt her… She hated the Capitol more than anyone, but she loved that concert and always said she wanted me see one…"

He pulls her into a hug, sensing she's about to get weepy. Her parents are understandably a sensitive subject and probably always will be, even during happy times. He knows the feeling. He holds her until the lights dim, and then they take their seats.

Gale tries to listen to the music. He really does. But all the songs sound the same. He reads the program to try to understand what's so appealing about this music, but it's just a list of song titles and a biography of the piano guy. Being in the balcony also means it's harder to people-watch the other audience members for entertainment. He tries not to fidget _too_ badly and makes a game out of memorizing the song titles to occupy himself. Every once in a while the music gets angry and the piano guy pounds on the keys, but since there's no obvious reason for the rage it just leaves Gale annoyed. He wouldn't mind pounding on some piano keys himself, especially if it would speed up the performance.

More than once Gale has to fold his hands together to refrain from the temptation of touching Madge's dress again. She smells even more intriguing than usual tonight and it's a new kind of torture to sit so close to her without interfering with her enjoyment of this concert. They have these private seats, he could easily start kissing her neck...

He notices Madge leaning forward in her seat, a rapt expression on her face. The music sounds especially swoopy, building to something. It actually is a little exciting, he admits. Then suddenly the music stops and silence reverberates throughout the auditorium. Everybody in the audience, including Madge, seems frozen. The silence stretches for so long Gale wonders if the song is over. But nobody claps, and slowly the piano starts up again, the notes so soft initially that he isn't sure he's hearing them or imagining them. As the song picks up in volume and tempo, he senses Madge relaxing and sinking back into her seat.

Seconds later, she leans over the armchair between them and whispers, "I love you." Her breath tickles his ear and her eyes shine like she's been crying, but she's smiling. Whatever that song just triggered in her, he definitely likes the way she's looking at him. Holding his gaze, she puts a hand on his cheek and kisses him softly. He's been holding back for so long that he can't help from returning the kiss energetically, and before he realizes it his hands have found their way to the silky dress, skimming from her knee to her thigh to her waist. But when Madge shifts to get a better grasp on his neck, he comes to his senses and pulls his hands back and stops kissing her.

He whispers, "I love you, too. So much that I'm going to let you listen to this concert in peace."

Madge looks surprised for a second, but then she laughs and quickly stifles it by covering her mouth with her hand. She reclines into her own chair, smoothes her dress, and then holds out her hand for him to hold. He takes it.

#

When the last song ends—really ends, and isn't an "encore" (Gale hadn't been pleased to learn of the concept)—Gale follows Madge's lead and jumps to his feet to join the clapping and cheering. He absolutely supports the effect the music had on Madge, and joyously celebrates the concert being _over_.

As they leave their seats, Madge immediately starts rhapsodizing about how amazing the music was. "It's _so_ much better live. Couldn't you feel it? Wolfgang Mercer is the best. We _have_ to see him again during his next tour." She squeezes Gale's hand playfully. "Maybe Simon will go with me if you don't want to."

"Maybe if you wear an ugly, thick wool sweater." Gale pauses to look her up and down. "Not this dress. This one's for me."

A slow smile plays on Madge's lips and she steps closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye Gale spots a flash bulb go off. He doesn't think the camera was pointed in their direction, but he recognizes the telltale neon green and purple logo of one of the tabloids adorning the uniforms of the figures clustered ahead of them in the corridor. Steering Madge into an alcove, he explains that they should wait a few minutes. "Unless you want to go out there and give an interview."

Madge frowns and shakes her head. Gale peers out to see which direction the photographers are moving, but they seem to have the corridor staked out. He and Madge will have to wait until they can backtrack and circle around to the service entrance. Then it will only be a short dash to the jeep, if anyone even sees them—

His thoughts are interrupted by Madge sliding her arms around his torso to unbutton his suit jacket. He freezes, like on a hunt when he doesn't want to disturb an animal; no way is he discouraging Madge right now. Seconds later she gently untucks his dress shirt and he feels her hands, warm and soft, exploring the bare skin of his stomach.

"Do you remember," she murmurs into his back, "at home when we did all that sneaking around together? The cemetery shed, the Justice Building, alleys, my backyard, stairwells…"

"I remember," he says huskily.

"I thought about kissing you then," Madge says. "Even before you did actually kiss me. There was something exciting and forbidden about not just what we were doing, but _you_—"

He swivels to face her, flooded by the memories of pent-up longing and frustration he used to struggle with when they lived in 12. Everything had been so muddled. He felt like a rebel for plotting against the Capitol with her, but weak for being drawn to her when Katniss was going through so much of her own turmoil. He wanted more of Madge than he could get and had to settle for stolen moments with her, the same way he had to make do with whatever scraps the Capitol left for people like him. Madge looks up at him with her earnest blue eyes and he completely understands why hiding in this little alcove reminds her of their past. It also reminds him that their present and future are so much better—now they do finally have each other and can do whatever they want.

And what he wants to do is kiss her, so he does. Without a concert taking her attention anymore, Madge seems to pour all her energy into him—the way it should be. He pushes her deeper into the alcove against the far wall so he can feel more of her body against his and slides the left strap of her gown off her shoulder. In response, she unknots his tie so quickly he wonders what she knows about ties. He kisses her bare shoulder where the dress strap used to be while slowly inching up the skirt of her dress. By the time his hand reaches her bare leg and he squeezes her thigh, he realizes they're heading for trouble.

"We can't do this here," he mumbles. It would probably be more convincing if he stopped kissing her when he spoke, but even getting the words out was a major feat. Now it's her turn.

Madge screws up her eyes and pushes him incrementally away. He feels every inch of the sudden Madge-lessness and pulls her toward him again. She kisses him for a few seconds before pushing him farther away, her arm extended fully. Holding him at a distance, she attempts to straighten her dress with her free hand. Whatever that silky material is, it sure wrinkles easily. He doesn't even remember messing with her hair, now half-falling out of its knot.

"Let's go home _now_," she says briskly. Then she looks at him critically. "Gale. Your shirt… And your tie."

He yanks the tie off and shoves it into his pocket. No point fixing it. Then he grabs Madge's hand and peers out of the alcove again. Now they _really_ need to avoid the photographers.

"Home it is."

#

Gale wakes up first. He can tell from the angle of the sun's rays shining into his bedroom that it's later than he usually sleeps, but last night wasn't a usual night. He also isn't used to sleeping on a proper bed. The prospect of Madge staying with him finally motivated him to buy a bed frame for his mattress. Easy enough purchase since he was helping his family get furniture for their new house. They moved in a couple of days ago, which means he has his apartment to himself again. Well, himself and Madge.

She's still sleeping, a relaxed hint of a smile on her face. The little sneak must have gotten out of bed at some point after he drifted off because she put on one of his gray T-shirts. A shaft of sunlight inches along the pillow toward her eyes and will probably wake her up soon, so he takes advantage of the opportunity to watch her. He likes what he sees: a tousled, happy, barely clothed Madge. His stare must be heavy because after only a few seconds her eyes open. A smile immediately stretches across her face and she rolls into him. She fits as perfectly as she always has.

"Morning, Gorgeous," he murmurs.

Madge instantly buries her head in his neck. He hears her muffled voice say, "I'm sure I look scary."

He laughs and pulls her on top of him. "I've never been so scared." He pushes his hands through her hair and kisses her until he feels her relaxing into him again. But it's only temporary; a few seconds later she sits up and glances around the room.

"Gale, what time is it? What if your mom comes over? Didn't you say they were doing some shopping for the new house in town today?"

He did mention that on the phone to Madge earlier this week, though now he heartily regrets it and wishes Madge's memory wasn't as good as it is. He rolls over and lazily reaches for his communicuff to check the time. It's absurdly late for him to still be in bed. Well, under normal circumstances. Having Madge in his bed means it would be absurd to leave. But he did forget his mom said she might stop by and he can tell Madge is getting worked up—and not in a good way. He climbs off the bed and throws on whatever clothes he first encounters on the floor.

"I'll call her and tell her we're busy," he offers. When Madge starts to crawl out of bed too, he clarifies, "_Busy_ means you stay in bed, Madge."

She peers anxiously at him. "I think some photographers got pictures of us last night. Your mom will be suspicious."

"So?" He tugs a T-shirt over his head. It seems clean enough. "The worst thing she would do is harass us about how soon we're having a toasting ceremony." Which she already does anyway. He omits that his mom would also probably give him her other favorite tedious lecture. (Did he know that he was a surprise to his parents? Yes, he's heard approximately 1,000 times how much _more_ lovely a surprise he would have been if they had been just a few years older.) But unlike his parents back then, he and Madge can afford birth control and neither of them needs that lecture.

Madge pauses mid-crawl and looks back at him, blushing. "Toasting?"

Pleased she's not trying to crawl out of bed anymore, Gale rolls his eyes as a reassurance about how annoying his mom can be. "Just ignore her if she says anything to you. She's obsessed." The last thing he wants is for Madge to think he only wants to marry her to get his mom off his back. Madge likes romance and probably wouldn't appreciate a proposal tainted by suspicions of maternal pressure.

He leaves to use the phone in the kitchen, and as he walks down the hallway he hears Madge dart into the bathroom and turn on the shower. With a sigh he opens the front door to retrieve the newspaper. The downside of dating a town girl: this unnatural love of showers.

He decides to make coffee while he waits for Madge. There should be plenty of time to convince her back into bed. Or onto the couch. That had seemed like a possibility last night. He wanders over to her rumpled green dress on the floor next to the couch and paws through the fabric until he finds the key necklace. Madge stole it from him the last time she stayed at his house. She gave it an upgrade, ditching the worn leather cord he'd fashioned in favor of a thin silver chain that matched the earrings she wore to the concert. He'd removed the necklace last night along with everything else she'd been wearing, but now he picks it up and studies it. The jeweler in town could probably easily convert it into a ring. He slips it into his pocket.

Then he calls his family's new phone number. "I'm busy today," he announces when his mom answers. "Don't come over."

"I figured you had plans, dear. We're staying in the village today anyway. Vick found a beehive on the roof. Hans has a ladder and is going to help us get rid of it this afternoon."

"_I'll_ get rid of the hive," Gale says. "That neighbor is a… vulture."

"Actually, he's a perfectly friendly, pleasant man. And we aren't carcasses so I don't know where this vulture comparison is coming from."

"He's been hovering around you ever since you moved in—"

"We'd love to see you and Madge this weekend when you're free," his mother interrupts brightly. "Posy wants to show off the color we painted her bedroom. And we'd like to have Madge's aunt and uncle and their… animal… over, too, as a thank you for all their hospitality. Let us know what works best for you and Madge. By the way, there's a picture of the two of you on page 6 of today's paper. It looks like you had a nice time last night at the concert."

Gale says good-bye to his mother and flips to page 6. Sure enough in the "People!" section—which he normally avoids at all costs—there's a shot of him leaning over in his seat in the private balcony and whispering to Madge. Her face is blocked in the shot, taken from quite a distance, and she just looks like an anonymous blonde in a slinky green dress clutching the lapel of his suit. Their body postures don't leave much to the imagination about what's on their minds. He skims the accompanying "article" which speculates on the young lady's name, including Madge as one possibility. It also theorizes that he and Madge had a falling out due to his volatile personality and that he's now seeking solace in other blondes. Typical tabloid crap.

He's still looking at the photograph when the phone rings again. Assuming it's his mom calling back because she forgot to hassle him about a toasting ceremony, he picks up without screening. Too late he glances at the display and sees that it's a District 12 number.

Then he hears a voice he knows better than nearly anything. "Gale?"

"…Katniss?"

"Hi." She doesn't say anything else for a few seconds and Gale checks the phone to be sure it didn't disconnect.

"Are you still there?" he asks.

"Is Madge all right?" Katniss blurts. "I don't have her phone number and you said you would help her. I've been worried. We all have. Peeta and Haymitch, too."

"She's fine," he says quickly. "She's not in trouble anymore." When Katniss's silence stretches to the uncomfortable point, he adds, "She was investigating some criminals and busted them… All those raids and arrests this past week? It's been in the news…"

"We don't watch the news," Katniss mumbles.

Another awkward pause balloons. Gale feels bad that he didn't think to call Katniss and Peeta to tell them the tabloid storm had blown over. Everything was so hectic with the raids, the arrests, the bombing, the reorganizations at work, his family moving into their house… He clears his throat. "How're you doing?"

He can practically hear her shrug through the phone. "Okay."

"Peeta?"

"He's good." Her voice sounds noticeably warmer, which triggers Gale's apparently not quite dormant instincts to kick Peeta's face in.

"_Really?_ No more hallucinations or fits?"

"_He's good_," Katniss says sharply. The rebuke in her tone is actually encouraging. It hints at the old Katniss, who cared about things. But her answer also cut off that line of conversation, leaving Gale to bring up what he knows he needs to say but without any good way to say it…

"Katniss," he starts, still searching for the right words. Then suddenly it all rushes out. "I wish I could say something that would make a difference. You were right that that bomb crossed a line. I wish I could go back and stop myself—"

"I know, Gale. You don't need to say anything." She sounds tired, like even a few minutes of him is too much. She also sounds unwilling to delve into this topic, including any hint that she's considering forgiving him for his possible role. He swallows any protest and accepts the blame and pain. This is apparently how things are now: she understands his regret and that he wouldn't have purposefully hurt her sister, but it doesn't change that she associates him with losing Prim.

"Are you… staying in District 2?" she asks after another stretch of tense quiet.

"For now. I can't make up for what I did in the war, but I can try to keep it from happening again." On behalf of people like Katniss who don't have anything left to give, thanks to the Capitol and then the rebels using her up. He can spare her that. He still has it in him to keep fighting in this new way. Or maybe it's the fighting that helps him keep going.

"How about your family?" Katniss asks. "I haven't seen them here in 12."

"They're staying here, too. They just got a house."

Katniss doesn't respond, and he doesn't know how to interpret her silence. As an accusation that he still has his family? He knows her mom didn't go back to 12. Does she wish his family moved back? Does she feel like they abandoned her, that Gale took away her real family _and_ her fake family? After a few more moments, Katniss finally says, "Good," which doesn't do much to clarify what she thinks. Then she adds, "They're building in town again. And the fence is gone."

"Like we wanted," Gale says quietly, and then immediately regrets the comment in case Katniss takes it as him being glad about the war's result. Which he is, in most respects—losing wasn't an option—but obviously not everything about the war's outcome was good. Like what happened to Prim… He winces. Talking to Katniss feels like trying to avoid stepping on a landmine, which in turn makes him thinks of bombs and bodies and how many people that terrible fence trapped before they got it down on the night 12 was destroyed…

He tries to pull himself out of the swirl of bad memories. "I'll have to come see the district for myself," he says. No response from Katniss, triggering more worrying that he set off another landmine. Katniss doesn't want to see him, he reminds himself. "Sometime," he adds vaguely. Like fifty years from now.

"Sometime," she echoes unenthusiastically.

Fifty years it is.

"I need to go," she finally says. She sounds even more fatigued than before.

"Take care," he says softly.

A few seconds later he hears the dial tone.

He sets the phone down and swallows anxiously. The familiar, overwhelming sensation of dread starts to wash over him and he focuses on taking one breath in and one breath out like that (stupid) therapist had suggested. He could go for a climb—that always clears his head. And wears him out, and makes him forget about anything other than the handholds and the hard, unforgiving rocks scraping his skin and bruising his muscles…

A blonde head pokes out from the hallway. Madge's hair is damp from the shower and she slipped on shorts, but she's still wearing his T-shirt. She looks worried and glances at the phone uneasily. He realizes she must have listened to the conversation, or at least part of it. He can't remember when the shower water turned off. Plus, she's a professional spy (although, in fairness his apartment is small enough that she would have had to go out of her way to avoid overhearing).

"That was Katniss?" she asks nervously. When he nods, she immediately inquires if he's all right.

"She was worried about _you_," he explains. "When the scandal first broke, I called to warn them not to talk to the press, and they don't have TVs so they didn't know you were all right now. She doesn't have your number… You should call her."

Madge walks into the room and leans against the opposite side of the kitchen island, irritatingly out of reach. She swallows and picks up a fork, which she spins nervously in her hands. Without looking at him, she asks, "Did you tell her we were together?"

He realizes he didn't. "No. It didn't even occur to me." He hadn't thought about why not, but now that Madge is asking him he wonders if he was unconsciously avoiding telling Katniss about something good in his life, like he wants to assure her that he's miserable and suffering… But then he notices Madge frowning and adds, "It doesn't concern her."

"I think she'd want to know," Madge says uncomfortably, which Gale reluctantly agrees with. It also makes him wonder which of them should tell her. With a pang, he realizes he probably doesn't even qualify as Katniss's friend anymore, let alone the closer friend who should be responsible for telling her. It feels backwards to know that Madge is on better terms with Katniss now than he is.

"You want to visit her?" Madge prompts.

He nods. "At some point. I'm part of why she fell apart. I need to know that she'll be all right. Peeta's helping her get better, but he's got his own problems, and Haymitch is a fucking alcoholic." Thank goodness for Greasy Sae.

Madge keeps staring at the fork as she twirls it. "Do you think… Is there a chance… Do you still love her?" Her voice trails into almost nothing. "Is that why you didn't want to talk to me about a toasting?"

Her question hits him like a slap and he's too stunned to respond right away. Then he stands up and walks around the kitchen island to Madge, putting his hands on her shoulders so she'll look at him instead of the damn fork. Worried blue eyes meet his.

"I love you." Didn't he tell her several times last night? Maybe she needs even more assurance. "I've loved you ever since we were in 12 together."

Madge stares back at him, and he can see the tears filling her eyes anyway. "But you loved Katniss for so long, Gale, including that whole time you loved me when we were in 12. I know I can't compare with her. Maybe you guys will patch things up, and realize later—"

"No." Gale doesn't even want to entertain this ridiculous line of thought. He glares at Madge, angry though mostly at himself for not having explained this to her before now. "I did love her. Yes, at the same time I started to love you. She didn't feel the same way about me, but you did, and then _you died, Madge._" His voice catches as he remembers again how overwhelmingly desolate that time was. He swallows and tries to speak more calmly, but he's still agitated. "And then Katniss and I were suddenly in 13, where Katniss was so different half the time I couldn't figure out where the girl I knew had gone. I lost her. And then I lost myself. I'm the one who should have died in the war, not Prim." He slumps into the stool next to Madge, feeling defeated. "I didn't deserve to survive. But I did, and I got all this—" he gestures to the apartment —"and you, too."

It's too much. But he knows that's the wrong way to think about it and can see Madge watching him cautiously. It seems so absurd that she could possibly doubt her importance to him but he can't think of the best way to explain to her the huge upwelling of joy he feels whenever he sees her, or whenever she smiles at him or kisses him. Or every single second of the night they just spent together.

He tries, though, and sits up straighter on the stool. "Katniss doesn't want me and I don't want her that way anymore either. I don't want her to suffer, I want her to get better, I care about her in that sense…" He grits his teeth, frustrated that he has to fight for the right words. "Madge, I love you more than I loved her because you love me back and—_it's __just different_."

Shockingly, a small smile appears on Madge's face. "I used to love you when you didn't love me back."

He narrows his eyes at her. Why does she need to bring that up? He's aware that she developed feelings for him before he returned them. He isn't sure precisely when she started to matter so much, but he does remember consciously trying not to encourage her.

Madge puts her hand on his chest and looks intently at him. "What I mean is: I get it, Gale. What you're trying to say. I loved you, but when you started actually liking me back it was like whatever I felt before that was pale and spindly in comparison. Like a little plant that never got any sunlight. And now… I know you love me. And it's _more_ somehow."

He stands up and kisses her instead of fumbling for words. This is a better way to show her how much he loves her anyway. And even though he wants to steer her backward over to the couch, he stops kissing her to see if she understands what he's trying to convey. One glimpse of her eyes confirms she does.

"_Happy_ crying," she assures him as he wipes her tears away with his thumbs.

He kisses her forehead and holds her for a few minutes, soaking in the hopefulness that's slowly starting to feel as right as Madge tucked against his body. The emotion and the person are intertwined, and that's how it's always been. When they first started plotting together in District 12, he hadn't even realized how closely he associated his feelings for her with the sense, however slight, of empowerment that came with fighting back instead of just accepting what the Capitol kept dishing out. Fighting back and Madge went together, and he needed both.

Releasing her enough for eye contact, he adds, "And we can talk about a toasting anytime. I just don't want my mom bugging us so often—it's our decision, not hers."

Madge searches his eyes and then smiles. "You're right." She seems calm, and content to know the topic is open but not something they need to talk about it this very second. Which means he can't resist...

He pulls away from her and turns toward the kitchen island, where he nudges his toaster forward with a sly smile. "Ready for breakfast?"

Madge's eyes widen and she takes a nervous step backward. "Gale… I'd want my aunt and uncle, and Simon, to be with us… And your family… And a real fire, not a toaster..."

He winks at her. "I know. I want all that, too." He pushes the toaster back behind the coffee maker and pours them each a cup. "Besides, I bet you already know how to make toast. We need something more advanced for you to try for breakfast this morning." Madge tilts her head and squints at him, clearly confused, so he explains, "I'm giving you a cooking lesson."

Eyeing the refrigerator and stove suspiciously, Madge sighs like he just told her she has detention. Then her eyes shift back to the counter and land on the newspaper, still open to the photo of them canoodling at the concert. She pulls it closer and her mouth falls open in surprise. "They did get a picture of us!"

"Yeah. And it turns out my mom saw this and wasn't planning on coming over anyway, so you didn't need to worry." Madge looks up at him with a pained expression, not comforted. He raises his eyebrows. "Be grateful they didn't catch us _after_ the concert when you were seducing me—"

"I wasn't seducing you!"

He grins. It is way too easy to rile her up. "Guess I have something to look forward to, then, if that didn't count."

Madge looks huffy, like she isn't quite sure what to say or how much he's messing with her. He's going to have fun loosening her up. But in the meantime he takes mercy on her by changing the subject. "My mom invited us over to see the house. And she invited Dusty and Perri and Zipper."

He's pleased to see Madge's face brighten. "Perfect. I want to see everyone. Today?"

"I was thinking tomorrow. We've got your cooking lesson right now." Madge wrinkles her nose in distaste, even though she hasn't burned anything yet. "Then, we're going on a hike in the mountains." He extracts a folder from the clutter on the kitchen island and pushes a map toward her. "This is the official version."

She looks up at him in bewilderment. "You really, _officially_ named that mountain after me?"

He smiles that the _officialness_ of the mountain's name is what gets her. She's such a mayor's daughter. "Milo okayed it, since it didn't have a name before," he explains. He's anxious for her to see the mountain, and the land around it. With the value equation, between his work in the mines and war service, he should have enough for a bid and obviously he needs her to approve. It will be a good investment, even if they decide to move back to District 12 later.

She hugs him again. "You know it would be the tabloid scoop of the year if I told them how sweet you really are?"

He laughs. There's hope for her. Madge loops her arms around his neck and starts playing with his hair, a tickling, soothing sensation. He sees a certain glimmer in her eyes that reminds him of how she looked when they were hiding in the alcove last night.

"I think," he says as he kisses her, "you're trying to get out of your cooking lesson."

"I wouldn't do that," she protests in an exaggeratedly innocent voice. "Although apparently I do have to prove that I can seduce you," she adds nonchalantly.

There's definitely hope for her. And for him. And maybe for their new country, too.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2:** Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to everyone who has been reading this story and reviewing and supporting me. It means so much, and I'm still shocked that people enjoy something I've written. Extra special thanks to Medea Smyke and Miss Scarlett 05 for their writing critiques, friendship, good humor, and encouragement whenever I wanted to quit. I had originally aimed to finish this by December 2011 – obviously that didn't happen! – but the story turned out to be more complicated and took more effort to wrap up than I'd anticipated. Add to that my shrinking free time due to stressful RL issues, and this story lingered much longer than I'd intended. I know readers cycle in and out of fanfiction and it's hard to keep up with a story that's dragged on for this long, so for those of you who've stuck with me I REALLY appreciate your loyalty and support.

I think there are enough hints of further resolution here that I didn't need to write more, though when ending a story this long it's a tough call about what to include/omit, especially in the fanfic realm because part of why we read fanfic is for the "extra" moments. I did start an epilogue where Gale and Madge visit Katniss and Peeta in District 12, but decided not to tack it on here. I'm burned out on writing at this point but if I finish it, it will be a separate, stand-alone story because 1) I can't bear to add to OWG's word count, and 2) it introduces new storylines and conflicts (most notably, Katniss's reaction to Gale/Madge) that didn't fit into this story. OWG focused on Gale and Madge finding each other and learning to live in the post-war world, not on Katniss. I also have a few other Gadge stories and ideas that I've been holding off on finishing/developing so I could focus on completing OWG. And now unfortunately I'm so burned out I think I need some time off from writing. :( But if anyone is interested in the epilogue/follow-up story, please let me know. I also put a poll on my profile about some of the other ideas to gauge interest levels in case that helps motivate me to write again.

One last thing: I'm very interested in feedback and constructive criticism of this story. I started writing it out of love for the Gale and Madge characters, but I _finished_ writing it (where the real effort turned out to be) to prove to myself that I could complete a long, complicated story like this one. In other words, it was partly an exercise in learning to write, and an aspect of that learning process is thinking about what I should do differently next time. I have my own criticisms of this story, but I'd still appreciate other perspectives on what I could do differently or better. Or what worked best. People read fanfiction for different reasons – I know there's a contingent who want lots of Gadge together (which hopefully this chapter satisfied!) but other readers don't go for as much romance… That's all useful to hear.

OK, I've rambled long enough, both in this story and in this author's note. Thanks again for reading, everyone. Please review!


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